"Sure, I like to suck cocks," an attractive young girl confided during an interview. "Why?" She shrugged. "I don't know, there's something very sexy about it-I mean, even sexier than when the guy and I are doing it the regular way."
She wet her lips, smiled at the memory, and her eyes grew glazed with a sudden onset of passion even as we talked.
"I like to start when it's limp. I like to touch it, to fondle and caress it. I like to taste it first with my tongue, just touch the tip of it before I start licking it all over. I get a very warm and good feeling down deep inside me when it starts getting big and stiff and I know that it's my tongue and mouth that's making it grow like that. It's-" The smile grew wider. "It's most creative-I mean, taking something like soft putty and molding it with my lips and tongue and mouth into something big and beautiful, like a work of art almost and yet not really like that either, because it's something that's warm flesh throbbing with life."
Her youthful husband agreed heartily. "Why do I like it?" He seemed surprised by the question. "Man, you've got to be kidding. When she sticks out that hot little tongue of hers and starts licking the top of my pecker, I get bigger and harder than I can anyway else. Some girls I've had-before we were married, of course-didn't know how to do it, but she does. I guess practice makes perfect, although to tell the truth she was pretty great right from the start.
"She knows how to use all parts of her mouth to make me excited-her teeth to nibble all along the side of my pecker, the tip of her tongue to snake around the tip of me, the insides of her lips on the knob at the top, her closed lips to kiss me on the balls, and when she takes the whole thing in her mouth and uses her entire mouth to suck on it-man, I nearly go through the roof!"
When asked about cunnilingus, the same girl said that she liked to have it performed on her, either as a buildup to regular intercourse or as a means to an end in itself.
She smiled and said, "He likes to tease me with his tongue, in much the same way I tease him with mine. He starts out by kissing me all around on the insides of my legs, working closer and closer to my crotch, until I'm about out of my mind with wanting him to get to where he's going.
"Finally, he gets there and kisses and licks me right on the opening. Then, he opens up the slit with his fingers and sticks his tongue right inside and works it in and out like a little cock, touching my clit, rolling it around on the tip of his tongue, and practically driving me up the walls."
Her husband picked up the narrative. "I can tell she's getting really excited," he went on, pleased, "by the way she starts moaning and twisting her hips around and arching her back. I get a real kick out of seeing her enjoy it so much and maybe even come once or twice before I hop on top of her and shove my pecker right up into her pussy where my tongue was a moment before."
"And sometimes," the girl volunteered the information, "we do the sixty-nine. I think I like that best, doing it to each other at the same time."
The honest and candid comments of this young couple reveal a compatibility too infrequently found among married-or unmarried-people who engage in sex, oral or otherwise.
At the opposite end of the scale we find another man and woman who were reluctant to even discuss the matter.
"It's dirty, filthy, and degrading," the woman insisted. "It disgusts me to even talk about putting my mouth down there where a man goes to the toilet!"
Her husband also seemed sincere in his agreement. "A woman goes to the bathroom there," he said, "and you think I'm going to put my mouth and tongue there!"
The woman had apparently never had any sexually oral experience, but the man admitted (privately) that while he was in the service he had gone to a prostitute who had performed fellatio on him. The act was unexpected, and he had felt guilt and shame; this and the circumstances helped solidify in his mind, apparently, the impression that oral sex was dirty.
There are undoubtedly hidden psychological factors in both these cases, beyond the face value of their admissions, which cause them to react in the ways they do. Nevertheless, it is obvious merely from the existence of these widely-varying attitudes that the subject of oral sex can be an extremely controversial one.
At the same time one envies the freely compatible young couple first quoted, one can also understand the opposite feelings of the others. After all, how can the man and woman in the street (and in the bedroom) agree on sexual matters, when various authorities do not, and have not, agreed.
Krafft-Ebing felt that oral sex behavior included " ... horrible sexual acts ... committed only by sensual persons who have become satiated or impotent...." Havelock Ellis regarded it as depraved and pathological. Even Sigmund Freud considered the act not normal.
Early marriage manuals followed this trend, either denouncing oral sex activities or completely skirting the issue. One' of the mdst famous of these, Ideal Marriage, finally confessed that the oral kiss had its good points, among them that it was "particularly calculated to overcome frigidity and fear in hitherto inexperienced women." Another venerated howto sex book, Marriage Manual, went even further in stating that there is nothing perverse or degrading in any sex activity which may promote a more harmonious sexual adjustment between a husband and wife.
But sanctioned by authorities or not, oral sex behavior is widely practiced. Various sex studies-the famous Kinsey Institute's among them-have shown that an incredibly large proportion of males and females engage in fellatio and cunnilingus, despite Judeo-Christian ethics which forbid such contacts and many legal codes which make them illegal.
In the chapters which follow, we shall attempt to describe these activities-in the individuals' own words whenever possible, taken from private interviews, tape-recorded psychiatric sessions, social workers' casebooks, etc. This study, as well as its predecessors, has shown that people promised anonymity are generally quite willing to speak frankly and colloquially about their sex lives.
We have not edited their candid comments, except in a few rambling instances for the sake of brevity. It is our belief that the words a person uses may be indicative of his inner feelings and thoughts. For example, one girl may euphemistically refer to a man's sex organ as a "thing," or even a "whatchamacallit," while another may call it a "penis," and still another may talk about it as a "cock" or a "prick." In a similar manner, a man may refer to a woman's sexual organ as a "snatch," a "pussy," a "cunt," or any number of other names. The particular word used often reflects the person's background and attitudes toward the subject under discussion.
The case histories are not necessarily typical, nor are they presented in proportion to their incidence in our culture. Instead, they have been chosen with an eye to presenting in one volume as broad a survey of oral sex behavior as possible and the motivations which prompt it.
As we shall see, some motivations are obvious, while many others are devious. In fact, there are some which are even anti-sexual in nature. All in all, thanks to the explorative and desire-seeking natures of man and woman, combined with feelings of shame and guilt instilled within them by society, mouth-genital contacts can become more complicated than the acts ordinarily require.
Only by examining some of these acts and the reasons behind them can we hope to understand this controversial lovemaking with lips and tongue, our neighbor's desires to perform or avoid it, and perhaps even our own feelings about this basic human sexual behavior.
CHAPTER ONE: WAYS AND MEANS OF ORAL SEX
One of the most attractive reasons for a person to engage in oral sex activities is the complete lack of preparation required to start the performance, and to continue it to completion. Panties can be shucked off and zippers can be unzipped in seconds, no contraceptives need be used, and very little space is needed to carry on to the complete enjoyment of either or both partners to the act.
I've got a small, two-seater sports car, one young man said. Did you ever try to screw in a sports car? Not only isn't there any room to stretch out, but there's the gearshift and the hand brake right between the seats-and the girl could probably get herself hung up on one or the other without any trouble at all.
But doing it orally, that's another matter. Lake one time I remember, I was out on a date with this broad, and we were at a drive-in movie. I wasn't paying too much attention to the film, because the girl had a Cinema-Scope pair of boobies, and I was busy reaching in under her blouse and her bra and feeling them up, rolling the stiff nipple between my fingers. I was shoving my tongue deep into her mouth, and she was doing the same for me. And I was getting pretty damn excited, I tell you. My wanger was standing up stiff and straight just like that gearshift, and I was anxious to have the broad check out my own personal transmission for me.
She seemed to be enjoying herself pretty much, too, the way she was kissing me and moaning and trying to catch her breath. Even through all that boobie flesh I could feel her heart pumping away like crazy, so I knew I was getting through to her, all right.
But when I reached up under her skirt, I was surprised to find that she clamped her legs tight around my hand and wouldn't let me. I kept trying, but the more I tried, the harder she pushed her legs together, until finally I asked her what the hell was the matter.
She said she hadn't expected to go that far with me-it was our first date. I said that was a lot of shit, that most girls I knew were willing to screw on the first date. Why waste time? Then she blushed and told me she was on the rag, that she was in the middle of her period, and she couldn't do it even if she wanted to.
Well, that made me pretty damned sore and frustrated, I tell you. There I was with a stiff wanger and no place to shove it. I swore and told her she was just a rotten tease, getting me all worked up for nothing. She asked me if I was really all worked up, and I took her hand and placed it over the bulge in the front of my trousers and asked her if she thought that was all worked up or not.
Her hand moved-but not away. It gently stroked the. throbbing bulge and felt its length and width. I moaned and said, "Oh Christ, you keep that up, and you'll blow my mind."
That's when she wet her lips and smiled and told me that blowing my mind wasn't exactly what she had on her mind.
Well, sir, that brought a smile to my face, I tell you. I'd had blow jobs before, of course, but I knew more girls that would rather screw than go down on a guy. Just thinking about it made me more excited than ever.
She wasn't bashful about it, I'll say that for her. She reached down, unzipped my fly, reached in through the opening in my underwear, and brought out my stiff wanger. Her hands were very soft and smooth, and for a while her fingers just played with it like it was a toy. All the while I was kissing her and my own hands were working over her boobies, squeezing them, massaging them, feeling her stiff nipples press against my palms.
Finally, I broke loose from her lips and said, "That's not a Yo-Yo you've got there; it's an all day sucker!"
She patted me and said, "I don't think you're going to last all day."
"Then you'd better get started," I told her.
Apparently she saw the wisdom of my suggestion; she bent her head over my lap and got started. I guess sucking off wangers wasn't anything new to her, because she knew just what to do, and she didn't hesitate doing it. She cradled my balls with one hand and gently squeezed them, while with the other hand she held onto the shaft of my stiff wanger to hold it in one place.
An instant later I felt her hot breath on the tip. I held my breath expectantly, then groaned loudly as her tongue flicked out and massaged the very top, moving wetly back and forth. Well, sir, I nearly shot my wad right then and there, but I managed to control myself because I was having too good a time to let loose just then and have the ball game over and done with.
But this broad was really getting to me, no doubt about that. What I liked best was she didn't seem to be in a hurry. She took her time about it, with that hot wet little tongue of hers moving all over the top of my wanger, licking up the few drops of juice beginning to ooze out of the tip.
Then she twisted her head and started nibbling up and down the side, like she was eating an ear of corn. I could feel her sharp teeth nipping the skin gently, biting very slightly as she went the length of the stiff wanger. But it was beginning to throb now like I was going to let go any minute, and I was afraid I was, so she changed her tactics.
She straightened her head over my lap and lowered her open mouth over me until she could enclose the bulb on top of my wanger with her lips. And she began to suck on me for all she was worth. I knew then I was going to go past the point of no return, so I grabbed her head in my hands and forced it down even more, while I raised my hips up to shove it deeper into her throat.
She didn't stop. She kept bobbing her head up and down in my lap, while I thrust up and down in rhythm with her motions, and all the while her lips were tight around me, and her tongue kept moving back and forth, and-well, between the tongue massage and the suction of her mouth and lips, I couldn't hold back any longer.
I could feel myself coming from way down deep inside. I could feel my balls tighten and my stiff wanger start to jerk. I closed my eyes and held on tightly to her head, while I raised myself up off the seat-and spurted hotly right into her throat, spasm after spasm which she swallowed without any hesitation. I was grateful for that. A lot of girls don't want to swallow the stuff, and you have to shoot all over the place, which gets pretty messy, especially in such a cramped spot.
Anyway, I had quite a few dates with her after that. Sometimes we went to her apartment, sometimes to mine-but a lot of times we just had her suck my wanger right there in the car, where we could do it anytime-even while I was driving.
As the young man pointed out, it was a fairly simple matter for the girl to commit fellatio on him, even in the cramped quarters. To a large extent this is true because of the position of the male's penis, which sticks up in open invitation to the female's mouth and is thus easily accessible. Further, it requires only a little more effort to reach the testicles, which also are readily available to the girl's inquisitive tongue and lips.
Several means to. the end were revealed by the man's testimony. The girl may use her mouth, her lips, her tongue, and her teeth during oral intercourse, applying these singly and in combination to any portion of the male's penis and testicles. A knowing female generally does not rush the act, building up to it gradually to increase the male's interest and expectation.
She may start by holding and massaging the organ in her hand, while she lowers her head to look at the erection, often eyeing it greedily and licking her lips as though she wishes to make a meal out of this delicacy displayed before her. This psychological approach will generally do much toward stimulating the man. Then she may lower her head even more, in order to blow her hot breath on the tip of the penis for a moment. This may be followed by exploring the very tip of the male organ by her curious tongue and kissing it, licking it up and down and around the sides, nipping lightly at the bulbous top and along the stem.
Whether or not she is succeeding in her endeavors is generally quite obvious by the male's reaction to all this. His breath shortens, his heart pounds harder, a glow of perspiration forms on his body-but most dramatically his penis leaves its flaccid state, rises majestically in a severe angle from between his legs, all the while growing in size.
Because of the outgoing nature of the erect male penis, it is sometimes even possible for a girl to perform fellatio on a man even if there is no other body contact present.
The first time I ever sucked on a boy's penis, one girl recalled during an interview, was when I was sixteen. I'd been dating this boy Tom for about six months, and we had a lot of heavy petting sessions, with him masturbating me and me masturbating him-but we'd never had intercourse or oral sex.
We were very much in love with each other, but we wanted to wait before going all the way-until we got married, I mean. As long as we could have orgasms and satisfy each other by masturbating, we could relieve the sexual pressures that built up inside both of us, so it really wasn't too bad.
My parents liked Tom very much, too, and a lot of times we all went out together-fishing, hunting, camping-on trips like that. Well, this one time I was telling you about, we went out to a camp my father rented, which was on the shores of a lake in upstate New York. A very nice place in the woods.
But we never could be alone, Tom and me. Oh, my parents meant well enough, I guess, but Tom was seventeen, and I guess they regarded both of us as kids yet and our romance as nothing but puppy love or teen-age infatuation or something. Anyway, Tom was always with my father, or I was with my mother, or we were all together-and it got pretty frustrating, especially for Tom. I could tell when we went swimming, and he kept staring at my breasts and thighs visible in the bikini I wore and pretty soon I could see his penis bulging against the front of his tight trunks. He had to stay in the water until it went down, and I really felt sorry for the poor guy. I wished there was some way I could relieve him.
Tom tried to joke about it. He said there was a knothole right next to his bunk in the bedroom, and he could shove his penis in there.
The camp had two bedrooms, a small one where Tom slept, and a larger one where my parents slept in a big double bed and I slept in a bunk against the wall. It was that night that I realized I was sleeping on the other side of the wall from Tom-and that there really was a knothole in the wall between us! Wouldn't it be funny, I thought wildly, if we could push the knot out to make an opening and Tom could really stick his penis through so I could masturbate him-and then we could put the knot back in the hole and no one would ever know!
It was a crazy, wild idea, but the more I thought about it, the more excited I got. I got up, pretending I had to go to the bathroom, and whispered my idea to Tom, who grinned and thought it was worth a try. Then I went right back to my own bed so my parents wouldn't get suspicious.
We waited ten minutes until I could hear my mother and father snoring slightly, then I tapped gently against the wall. I placed my hand over the knot and felt Tom pushing against it with his fingers from the other side. It was a tight fit, but slowly it gave, and a moment later it came free in my hands. I placed it on the floor beside my bed, because I didn't want to lose it. I'd have to put it back when we were through.
The opening was about even with my head, and in the dim light I could see his familiar penis start snaking its way through the opening. He already had part of an erection, and the friction of scraping through the narrow opening was making it bigger. When he'd stuck it through, I started playing with it-at least what was there on my side of the wall, which was the big round head and about an inch and a quarter more.
I kept running my fingers all over the top of it, and I could tell he was getting very excited by it. He moved his penis in and out, using short strokes, and then he stopped, and I heard him groan. I didn't realize at first why he'd made the sound, because it wasn't a groan of pleasure. Then I realized that his penis was so thick now that he was trapped in the knothole!
I almost went into a panic, until I realized I might wake up my parents-and then there would be hell to pay when they realized what we were up to. Yet I had visions of having to do just that anyway, so we could saw a bigger hole in the wall or maybe even tear down the wall to get Tom free.
Then I remembered that when he had an orgasm, his penis softened and became smaller. Of course, that was the answer. Make him have an orgasm, so he could just withdraw his penis. I began tickling the tip of his sex organ with my fingers, and I could feel his answering movements as he automatically thrust his body forward and back against his imprisoned penis. He seemed to get even harder and thicker. I couldn't see his penis very well in the dim light filtering in through the window, but I imagined it all bruised and bleeding from the rough wood that held it prisoner. I felt so sorry for Tom's predicament, that I bent my head forward and kissed the tip of his penis with my lips.
He wasn't bruised or bleeding, but the tip of his penis was covered with a salty, sticky fluid that tasted strange to me. Also, I felt his flesh lurch suddenly under my lips. I'd never sucked on a boy's penis before, like I told you, but I knew some of the other girls in school had done it. Now, it suddenly occurred to me that this might be the answer. If my sucking on him got him very excited he might have an orgasm very quickly so he could get loose. Besides, I could catch his semen in my mouth, so there wouldn't be any telltale traces in the morning for my parents to discover.
The more I thought about it, the more the idea appealed to me. I got in a comfortable position with my head facing the opening and reached out with my tongue and touched the tip of his penis again. It tasted-well, sort of strange, but not unpleasant. I really loved the guy, like I said, and it bothered me sometimes that we weren't having sexual intercourse together. Now, what I was doing seemed even more intimate than regular sex, and I felt I was showing him how much I loved him.
As I licked the salty fluid from the tip of his penis, I found myself getting very excited. I wished I could have Tom's hands on me, but lacking that, I placed my own fingers under my nightgown and up between my legs, until I found my clit, which I began working back and forth at the same time my tongue was working on Tom's penis.
Then I opened my lips and took the rounded part in my mouth and sucked on it as hard as I could. I could tell he liked that. I almost heard his heavy breathing from the other side of the wall. I hoped he wouldn't make an outcry which would awaken my parents before we were through. When I thought of them lying asleep just a few feet away, never suspecting what was going on, it made what we were doing all the more exciting.
I could feel his penis throbbing like crazy, and I knew he was going to come any time. I put as much of my mouth on him as I could, putting my lips on his penis right up to the wall that separated us. I wished then that there wasn't a wall there, that I could take all of him inside my mouth, that I could chew on his penis from one end to the other-but that was impossible just then, of course, so I did what I could.
That was apparently quite enough, because a brief second after I had myself an orgasm, his penis gave a lurch in my mouth and started spurting. I kept sucking on him all the time, swallowing the hot, salty fluid as it gushed from him, keeping my mouth on him until I was certain he was all through.
I was sorry to let him go, but I knew I had to. I kissed him gently on the tip before he withdrew his limp penis to the other side. Then I took the knot, and pushed it back securely into the hole. I fell asleep very relaxed, and I dreamed that the wall was not there anymore and that I was kissing and licking and sucking him all over between his legs.
The next day, during a brief moment alone together, he said that it was the loveliest thing that had ever happened to him, and that he loved me very much and just couldn't wait until we were alone together so we could do it again. We didn't try it with the knothole again, although we were tempted. But the next week when we were out on a date, we parked in a lovers' lane and I sucked on Tom's penis while he masturbated me, and it was every bit as wonderful as I'd expected it to be.
The girl reported further that she and her boyfriend continued their oral activities as a substitute for sexual activities until several years later, when they were married. At that time, of course, they engaged in regular penis/vaginal relations, but they had come to enjoy the mouth-genital contacts so much they generally preceded regular intercourse with these oral contacts.
Because of the recessed nature of the female genitalia, it is slightly more difficult for the male tongue to apply itself to that area than it is for the female to reciprocate. Nevertheless, it is still more readily available for oral lovemaking than for intercourse.
If we're in a car, one girl confided, I just lean back and spread my legs wide and the guy gets down on his knees in front of me and sticks his head up between my legs and starts in. If I know in advance we're going to a drive-in, for example, I'll be sure to wear a full skirt and forget the pantries.
Like last Saturday, for example, I went out on a date with this guy I'm sort of going steady with.-We were necking up a storm. He was feeling up my boobies and sticking his finger in and out of my pussy, and pretty soon he had his male thing out and I was working it up and down with my fist.
Well, he was pretty damn excited, and it didn't take long for his thing to start throbbing and jerking around. Fortunately I had a piece of Kleenex handy, and he shot off into that. But I was pretty high up by that time and was going to have cramps if something didn't happen to relieve me. He knew it, too, and he suggested he'd like to eat some hot pussy.
You can bet I told him to go right ahead. After all, it was pretty dark there in the drive-in, and no one would see him crouched in front of me. So he got down in front, and I spread my legs and raised my skirt up to my navel.
He began by kissing me on the knees, then slowly working his way up along the inner thighs, planting wet kisses first on one side and then on the other. My skin was tingling long before he got where he was going, and I knew my pubic hair was moist with perspiration and that sticky stuff that lubricates me down there. His lips moved through the dark curly hair, kissing and licking. When his tongue moved across my pussylips, I nearly cried out with the pleasure I felt. But that sensation was nothing compared to the one I got when he parted my lips with his fingers and stuck his tongue into the opening-right on the stubby clit that was standing up as stiff as his penis had been.
I really wilt when he does that to me. My body gets covered with perspiration, and I just slump down in the seat. Strangely enough, I'm relaxed and tense at the same time. His tongue moved in and out, stroking my clit, building up my passion higher and higher, and every once in a while he'd stop and place his lips tight against my pussylips, and draw in his breath through his mouth to cause' a suction that darn near made me fly right up through the roof.
Several times I could've come, but I held back, afraid that if I had an orgasm he'd stop. And I was enjoying his mouth on my pussy so much I wanted him to go on and on forever. We were so busy, I didn't notice that the movie was ending, and I didn't realize it until the overhead lights blazed and people around us started getting out of their cars!
He got nervous and started to get up, but I knew he'd never make it before someone saw us and knew what we were doing. Besides, I saw a couple I knew nearby coming over to the car. So I pushed his head back down and covered him with my full skirt. I was embarrassed, but I hoped it didn't show. Another thing I hoped wouldn't show was my boyfriend on the floor in front of me. I edged a little more forward on the seat so my skirt would cover him more, pretending I just wanted to lean on the window edge to talk to my friends.
One of them, the girl, was a nosy cousin of mine, and I knew if she discovered what we'd been doing, everybody, including my family, would know about it. I wanted to get rid of them fast, but I also didn't want to make them suspicious. So we talked. And talked. They asked where my boyfriend was, and I told them he'd rushed off to the refreshment stand to beat the crowds. I hinted that maybe they should hurry over there before the movie started, but the girl said they'd just gotten out of the car to stretch their legs and they'd wait to say hello to my boyfriend.
I really felt sorry for the poor guy crouched on the floor in front of me. To be less visible, he'd scrunched up, pulling his legs under him, and I knew it must be uncomfortable for him. I guess he just got bored doing nothing down there, so he started in on me again, raining wet kisses all along the insides of my thigh, shifting his position so that his lips touched my pussylips and his tongue could move into my moist region beyond. I shifted my position slightly to give him greater access and also to cover up any movement his head was making under my skirt. Meanwhile, I was talking up a storm with this other couple, trying to be very casual, although the thrusting movements his tongue was making on my clit was enough to make me leap out the window.
Finally, the lights dimmed overhead, and the movie started, and the other couple said to say hello for them to my boyfriend when he came back. Just as they moved away, I leaned back on the seat with a sigh of relief and had an orgasm that shook me from head to toe.
It was really exciting. I think more so because we did it right under the noses, so to speak, of this other guy and girl without them even suspecting what was going on. She grinned. Or coming off, I guess would be more accurate!
The entire male mouth, including the lips, the teeth and the tongue, can be used during cunnilingus. The application of any or all of these can be made on the inner and outer areas of the genital lips, the walls of the vagina, and most effectively on the clitoris-the female equivalent of the male's penis.
In a manner similar to that used by the female on the male, the man may lead up to the act gradually, building an emotional-sexual response in the female, as did the man in the previous case history. He may first kiss various parts of her legs, trailing his "lips and tongue along the inner portions of her thighs, getting closer and closer to the, genital area. When this is done, the female receives both physiological and psychological stimulation which causes her vagina membranes to congest and force fluid into her opening which lubricates the" area for greater ease of entrance by the male fingers, penis or tongue.
Just above this vagina opening, the clitoris is often a half-inch to an inch-long, penis-like protuberance whose tip is laden with sensitive nerve ends. This part of the female genitalia is generally the most sensitive and is the area that serves as target for the questing mouth of the male. As the female becomes more and more excited, the entire organ becomes swollen and rises through the rapidly opening genital lips.
Continued stimulation of this now-supersensitized area may well result in single or multiple orgasms for the female.
While many authorities, the late Dr. Kinsey among them, note that the mouth is an erogenous zone in itself, the satisfaction a male receives directly from his performing cunnilingus is purely psychological in nature. However, this satisfaction can often translate itself into a physiological reaction-as when the male's penis reacts to his sexual thoughts by becoming erect and ready for intercourse.
I get a big kick out of having Madge come that way, one husband said during an interview. Oh sure, my pecker comes up stiff when I start in on Her, but it's a challenge to see if I can make her have an orgasm or two just using my mouth on her cunt. She really seems to enjoy it that way, too, and I enjoy having her enjoy herself.
Like the other night I was all hot and bothered, and I shot my wad before she'd had a chance to even warm up. We were lying naked on the bed, and I could tell she was starting to get excited by the way her nipples were up stiff under my hand and between my lips, and a golden sheen of perspiration covered her body. Without hesitating, I slithered down alongside her, kissing her skin all the way as I went-her neck, her tits, her stomach. She's a blonde all the way, and I could see her nice juicy cunt through the moist, light-colored hairs surrounding her pubic area.
I paused and lowered my head over her, inhaling deeply. I loved the sweet perfume of her body. There's no smell better than a hot, moist cunt-and the smell of it filling my nostrils made me excited all over again. I could feel my pecker coming up for seconds, but this time I ignored it. I wanted it all for Madge this session.
I lowered my body some more, and she spread her legs for me. I reached out my tongue and tasted the damp hair, pushed through it to her outer lips. She shuddered as my tongue licked the warm flesh, and then she moaned excitedly. Funny, but a cunt always has tasted something like clam chowder to me-only better. It's a kind of meal I never get tired of.
I began kissing her all around her lips while she moaned and ran her fingers through my hair, urging me on. I used my mouth to spread apart her soft flesh enough for me to wiggle my tongue inside her just a fraction of an inch, then shove it deep as I could and move it around swiftly, searching for her clitoris, finding it. When my tongue raked across it, I thought she'd thrash me right off the bed. I had to hold onto her legs as tight as I could to keep her in one place, but I was plenty pleased, because I knew I was getting to her. I kept plunging my tongue deep inside her cunt and drawing it out, making side trips each time to push her stiff clitoris back and forth.
Then her whole body started shaking all over, and she stiffened, and I knew she was having her first big orgasm. But I kept right on shoving my tongue in and out of her, then sucking on her cunt lips, sometimes pressing my lips in there as tight as I could and blowing hard-and she had another, She was delirious with pleasure, and I was feeling no pain myself. Like I say, by that time, my pecker was stiff again. I rose up on my elbows and looked at her, and she looked back. I didn't even have to say anything. She smiled and nodded. We'd done it the regular way. Now, we'd sixty-nine.
In general, there are no required positions during either fellatio or cunnilingus. The sex organs can be approached from any direction by the partner's mouth so long as contact is made and sustained. The man may stand or sit, with the woman kneeling or sitting in front of him in order to take his sex organ in her mouth, or he may lie' back on a bed with the woman lying beside and below him with her head over his genitals so she can comfortably apply her mouth to his penis and testicles. When the man performs and the woman receives, their positions are, of course, reversed. These are the most generally used positions because they are the most convenient when the time and the place permits their use. However, as previously stated, any juxtaposition of mouth and genital will suffice to perform the act satisfactorily.
In the case of the sixty-nine position, however, it is necessary to line up the bodies next to each other, but in reverse, with the male heading in one direction, the female in another, in order for each mouth to be on the other's genitals. Within the limitations of this requirement, there are variations-lying on their sides, female on top, or male on top. . One man interviewed-a former Muscle Beach devotee-reported that in his younger days he and his girl friend used to have mutual mouth-genital contacts with him sitting on the floor or standing, with the girl's legs draped over his shoulders so his mouth was in her crotch, and with her hanging down in front of him so her own mouth was even with his penis. Sometimes, he reported, if he were feeling especially athletic, he would jog about the room while they both furiously sucked each other's genitals.
This last instance, however, is somewhat unusual and merely points up man's ability to introduce variations in his sexual behavior. Most people are content to enjoy oral sex relations with a minimum of physical fuss.
On the psychological side, however, the situation can become exceptionally complicated as we shall soon discover.
CHAPTER TWO: YOUNG BOYS, OLDER WOMEN
Authorities have pointed out that oral lovemaking, as an end in itself or as a petting technique, is generally one of the last sexual acts to take place. A young boy, for example, will kiss a girl on the mouth, engage in mutual tongue play, caress her breasts and finger her genitals; after that, he may try mouth-genital contacts. The oral technique is hastened, however, if his love partner is an older woman, more experienced in sexual matters, than his female contemporaries are likely to be.
I remember I was almost twelve years old, one man recalled during an interview, when my aunt Clara came to live with us. She was my mother's sister who'd been living back East, come out to California for a visit. She was a few years older than my mother, in her mid-thirties I guess, not bad looking but obviously heading toward spinsterhood.
I didn't think about it then, but now I had the feeling that she didn't date much and probably she never had a man-sexually, I mean.
As for me, I was getting pretty damned sexy. I had my pecker in my hand at least once a day, jerking off, like I'd been doing for at least six months. Most times I'd do it in the bathroom, where I could pull off into a piece of toilet paper and flush the evidence down the drain right away. If my parents suspected what I was doing in there so long, they didn't say anything. I think they thought I had a couple more years before puberty and wasn't interested in sex.
I never asked them any questions about sex. I got all my information from older boys. Some of them even had pictures which showed a girl with her titties bare and her legs open so I could see the hole up between her legs. The hole was called a "eunt" the other boys informed me with their advanced knowledge, and that's the place a guy shoved his pecker when it got stiff. I wanted to get some pictures like that for my own, but nobody seemed to know where to get them. I wanted to borrow them, too, but the boys that had them wouldn't let them out of their sight. Not that I blamed them. Every time I looked at them, my pecker got stiff and hard. So when I got into the bathroom, I'd close my eyes and concentrate to remember all the details of the pictures.
Except one time I forgot to lock the door, and Aunt Clara walked in. I was really going to town. My pecker was up good and hard and my fist was busy jerking it up and down, and at first I didn't realize the door had opened. Then I opened my eyes and saw the woman standing there, staring at me-not at me, exactly, but at part of me, the stiff pecker standing up in front of me, throbbing in my hand. Quickly, I put my other hand over in front of it to hide what I was doing, and that seemed to break her trance. She moved away with an apology and closed the door behind her.
A cold sweat broke out on my body. Suppose Aunt Clara told my parents what I was doing. I didn't mind being punished, really, but they might keep a close eye on me to see that I didn't keep doing it. And I sure as hell wanted to keep pulling my pecker, because I enjoyed it so much. I was completely out of the mood now, but I delayed going out of the bathroom, afraid of what I'd have to face out in the house. I knew I should keep jerking off, or else I'd have cramps, but the bathroom door was still unlocked and I half-expected my father to come barging in to give me hell.
Instead, I just got up, pulled up my underwear and my trousers and flushed the toilet. My pecker was still stiff under my clothes, and the bulge stood out. I washed my face and hands a couple of times until the stiffness went down. But when I went outside the bathroom, nobody said anything about what had happened, so I guessed Aunt Clara had been too embarrassed to mention what she'd seen. Then, my aunt was so calm and so friendly, I began to wonder if she'd seen anything at all-except me sitting on the toilet seat. Thinking that, I began to feel much better about it all.
It was after dinner, while we were all sitting in the living room watching television that I began wishing that Aunt Clara had actually seen me jerking off my pecker. There was something incredibly sexy about having a female watch you do it. I remember when I was younger, the boys and the girls used to show each other what they had, but while it seemed naughty, it wasn't really stimulating. Now that we were older and knew what it was all about, the girls wouldn't do it anymore. A couple of the boys had sisters, and they delighted in telling us how they'd peek in on their sisters while the girls were undressing or taking a bath.
I envied them, and I wished I had a sister I could see naked. The thought of that made my pecker start up again, and I had to cross my legs to keep the bulge in my trousers from showing.
I tried to think of something else. The television program was dull, but my parents were sitting on the couch watching it. Across from me, my aunt Clara was sitting in a chair, reading a magazine. Her skirt was pulled up above her knees, and it was the first time I'd noticed that she had legs at all, and very shapely legs at that. I tried to look away, but I couldn't. Her bare legs fascinated me, and I began wondering how it would feel to take out my pecker and inch it up along those legs, forcing them apart, and shoving myself up deeper along her thighs to the spot where her cunt was.
Well, you can imagine what effect those thoughts did to my pecker. Before I knew it, it had gotten stiff again, and it was pressing and throbbing against the cloth of my underwear and trousers, and I was afraid I was going to let go any second. I looked up guiltily, but Aunt Clara was engrossed in her magazine and paying me no attention. My parents were still watching the television program. When I looked back at Aunt Clara, I noticed a subtle change in her-her legs were spread, ever so slightly.
I caught my breath and stared. I wet my lips. I could feel my heart pound wildly. I could see right up between her legs, along the white thighs, straight into her crotch, where her white panties were snugged right into the crack of her cunt. I could even see wisps of pubic hair around the edges of the thin panties.
I started trembling, and I was afraid I was going to come right then and there in front of everybody. Then I got the shock of my life. Aunt Clara looked up from her magazine, smiled at me, and opened her legs even wider!
I could see everything she had. Sure, she was wearing panties, but they were pulled tight into her crotch, and when she spread her legs they pulled even tighter over the crack, outlining it in exquisite detail, and some wiry black pubic hairs sprang out along either side.
It was a lost cause trying to hold back then. I was already too far gone, and the sight of that crotch was too much for me. I groaned as my stiff pecker lurched up against my trousers and began throbbing and spurting away like crazy. My father hadn't noticed, but my mother asked me if I was okay, and I gave her a big smile and said yes. When I looked back at Aunt Clara, her legs had moved together and she was intent on her magazine. Funny. I could have sworn she'd opened her legs on purpose so I could see right up into her crotch.. But I couldn't figure out why a nice woman like' her, and a relative of mine as well, would do something like that. After awhile, I decided the exposure had been accidental.
Meanwhile, I had a soggy set of underwear to contend with. I waited until my pecker had gone down, then got up and walked hurriedly into the bathroom. The front of my trousers were starting to show the wetness, so after I'd mopped up the mess with some toilet paper, I went into my bedroom and changed.
Nothing much happened the rest of the evening, but when I was in bed that night, I started playing with myself and thinking about the glorious sight I'd seen. Needless to say, my pecker went up stiff and hard while I envisioned Aunt Clara sitting opposite me with her legs wide, showing me the insides of her legs and her pantied crotch, with her hair and cunt out-lined like it was etched on the cloth....
My father worked during the daytime, which was when my mother liked to do her shopping. I made a third discovery the next day when I went home during the noon hour for the school lunch I'd forgotten to take with me that morning-Aunt Clara liked to sleep late. I let myself in the house and walked through, looking for signs of life. I found more than I was looking for in the den, where Aunt Clara was stretched out asleep on top of the rollaway bed, with her nightgown pulled up around her waist and her naked legs spread.
I stopped dead in the hallway and just stared. Her hair was splayed out over the pillow, and her eyes were closed. Her breasts rose and fell under the skimpy covering as she breathed. But it was down between her legs that held my attention. Underneath the black hair I could see on her what I'd seen on those pictures the boys had shown me her cunt, which looked like a giant pair of lips between her legs. I remembered thinking how nice it would be to kiss those lips.
That thought shook me out of my trance, and I realized that my pecker was up good and hard. I held my breath and wondered if I dared jerk off in front of Aunt Clara while she was asleep. I knew I sure as hell wanted to. I also knew that another opportunity like this might not come again very soon, if at all.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I unzipped my fly and took out my pecker and began pulling on it. It got bigger and harder than I'd ever remembered, and I was really enjoying it. Hell, those other guys just had a picture to look at-I had me a real live woman! The fact that she was an aunt of mine didn't bother me. Like I said, she'd been living back East all this time, so it was as though she was a stranger.
So there I was in the doorway to the den, pounding away on my stiff pecker while I stared at Aunt Clara's wide-open cunt. Then I glanced up at her face to make sure she wasn't waking up-and suddenly her eyes were wide open, and she was smiling at me!
My pecker was stiff and throbbing so much it didn't register at first in my brain. Then, I stopped, embarrassed, and fumbled with my fly, wondering what in the devil I could say to explain what I was doing. But Aunt Clara only began laughing and motioning me to come into the room. She didn't even try to put her legs together or cover herself up.
Suddenly her voice penetrated my numb brain. She told me not to be embarrassed, that she understood how I felt. She said I was getting to be quite a man, and she was pleased that I found her so attractive.
"You do think I'm attractive, don't you?" she asked me.
I nodded, gulped, and found my voice. "Yes," I told her. I tried not to look at that spot between her legs, but my eyes kept being drawn to it.
She said, "Then come over here and get a better look at it."
Like someone in a hypnotic trance, I moved into the den toward the bed. It was funny. I still had my fly open, and my pecker was still standing up stiff and hard in front of me. Aunt Clara patted the mattress beside her and told me to sit down. I sat down. She asked me if I'd ever seen a woman like that before, and I told her no, only in pictures. She asked me if I'd like to see all of her, and I nodded. That's when she lifted her nightgown up over her head, took it off, and threw it aside.
Her breasts were small, like apples, and they jiggled when she moved. I stared at them, and she asked me if I'd like to suck on them. Before I could answer, she took my head in her hands and guided me toward her breasts. My heart was pounding like crazy, and I couldn't think straight. My mouth opened and took in one of her nipples, which got hard and stiff, like a little pecker, inside my mouth. Aunt Clara kept moaning and stroking the back of my head and neck. After awhile she pushed me away and asked me if I thought she had nice breasts. I said yes. She smiled and asked me if I thought she had a nice cunt, and I hesitated but said yes. It surprised me that she'd use the word "cunt" like that, but that's just what she said.
Then she surprised me again by asking me if I'd like to kiss her pretty cunt. I guess I just stared at her for a minute, wondering if I'd heard correctly. Then she laughed and said that she had lips down there between her legs that were very nice for kissing. I'd noticed they looked something like lips, but I'd never thought of actually kissing them. The whole conversation was pretty embarrassing, and I stammered a lot, not knowing what to say to her.
"Is there something else you'd like to do to me'"' she asked.
I nodded and said, "I'd like to stick my pecker up inside you." I was surprised how easy it was to say-just like that.
She grabbed me and hugged me. She said she'd like nothing better, but it wouldn't be right because she was my aunt and I was her nephew. Besides, she said, she might get pregnant, and she couldn't have that. Disappointment must've shown on my face, because she said she could do something even better to me.
She made me stretch out on the bed beside her, and she turned her body around so she was facing my stiff pecker. She took my pecker in one hand and caressed it, while the other hand gently massaged my balls. She said I was a real big boy, and someday I'd make a girl of my own scream her head off with pleasure.
Well, right then and there I wanted to scream my own head off with pleasure. I'd never had anybody take hold of my pecker and work it over, and I knew then I'd been missing plenty. It was standing up so straight and stiff and throbbing away like crazy I thought I'd raise right up off the bed.
As I watched, Aunt Clara's head got closer and closer to the tip of my pecker. She wet her lips, and I held my breath as her tongue almost touched the end of it. Then she edged closer and planted a wet kiss right on the top. A shudder ran up and down my body, and I wanted desperately for her to do it again. An instant later, she did it again, with the same results. Right on the tip of my pecker, a few drops of moisture had collected around the hole, and her tongue slid out from between her lips and touched the moisture, licking it up.
It was an experience I'll never forget. I still have wet dreams about it sometimes.
I thought even then that she was purposely trying to get me very excited. And she was succeeding, you can be sure of that. She started nibbling on the end of my pecker, using her sharp teeth to nip at me like a hungry animal. Then she opened up her mouth wide and took the end of it between her lips and began sucking on it. I began trembling all over, and I knew it wouldn't be long before I came. But I wanted it to last longer, so I tried my best to hold off.
She moved her body across mine, forcing me flat on my back, while her mouth opened up and swallowed all of my pecker, right down to the balls which she played with in her hand. Her head moved up and down, up and down on me, with her lips pressed tightly all around the shaft of my pecker. It was the sexiest thing that could ever happen to me, I thought. And I was sure of it when I noticed that with her legs straddling my face, her cunt was suspended just a few inches above my nose.
I stared at her cunt wonderingly for a moment.
I'd never expected to see one up so close, and I was surprised to see that the quivering, moist folds of flesh still resembled a pair of lips. I recalled her asking me if I wanted to kiss them-and now, suddenly, I had the urge to do just that.
I reached up to grasp her buttocks and raised my head slightly to plant a wet kiss on those hairy lips. It tasted funny, sort of damp and salty-but very pleasant. And her body shuddered with the contact. Her lips left my pecker long enough for her to gasp, "That's it! Do it again! Kiss it! Lick it! Stick your tongue deep inside me!"
She was giving me such a good time I couldn't refuse if I'd wanted to. And I didn't want to. I had the feeling that I was going through an experience denied most boys, something that might never happen again, and I wanted to make the most of the moment.
So I kissed her there between her legs. I licked her cunt. I stuck my tongue deep inside her. She began shuddering and rolling around on top of me so much I had to hold onto her to keep her steady. And I felt myself coming, big and strong, the way I usually felt it coming from way down deep inside me sometimes when I hadn't masturbated in a couple of days. She took her mouth off me just before I began spurting, but her lips worked all up and down the length of my pecker while it throbbed and shot streams of white stuff all over the bed.
When it was over, I just collapsed, tired but happy, on the bed, hoping none of the stuff had gotten on my trousers. Aunt Clara rolled off me and sat up on the bed. She smiled and patted my limp pecker, and asked me if I'd enjoyed it. I said yes, but I was beginning to feel a little-well, strange, about what had happened. Way back in my mind I'd been thinking, wow, wouldn't it be swell to tell the other guys about it. Then I knew they wouldn't believe me. After all, how come it hadn't happened to them, since they had aunts and other relatives who lived with them?
I knew I couldn't tell them anyway, because Aunt Clara started warning me not to-not to tell anybody, not my best friends, and especially not my father or my mother. They wouldn't understand, she said. I wasn't sure I did. I had a few feelings of guilt, but my excitement had overwhelmed them; now the feelings returned, and there was no passion to cloud the obvious fact that what Aunt Clara and I had done was very wrong.
Wrong or not, the man confided, "a stiff pecker, as the saying goes, hasn't any conscience. Needless to say, Aunt Clara and I did it again. There was many a lunch hour after that first session, where I ate something a hell of a lot more interesting than peanut butter and jelly sandwiches." He chuckled. "Besides being nonfattening, Aunt Clara didn't stick to the roof of my mouth!"
Despite his obvious attempt to make light of the situation, it seemed clear that the man was troubled by his behavior, both when he was a boy experiencing the mouth-genital contacts and when he was telling of it. He recounted in some detail his further adventures with his aunt, which were repetitions, for the most part, of his initial encounter. He was at age twelve unconsciously aware of the Judeo-Christian taboo, not only against oral sexuality but against sexual behavior between relatives. His growing shame and guilt feelings were further strengthened by his aunt's understandable insistence on secrecy.
Authorities in the field, among them the Indiana University Institute for Sex Research, have noted that in the case of sex offenses involving minors, secrecy depends largely upon the ability of the minor to keep quiet about the sexual escapade, especially if the behavior is a one-time affair or if it is repeated infrequently. If the sexual behavior is repeated often, this of course increases chances of discovery by someone not participating in the act.
In the present case history, the subject, though racked by feelings of guilt and shame, managed to subdue these feelings before the onslaught of his passion. After all, he wasn't supposed to masturbate either, but he wasn't giving that up. However, he and his Aunt Clara performed their sexual feats once too often.
My mother was out shopping again, he recalled. As for my father, he never, never, NEVER came home during the daytime-except this one time. Aunt Clara was having her period, so I couldn't kiss her down there, but she was doing it to me. I was lying on her rollaway bed with my fly unzipped and my stiff pecker sticking up inside her mouth. She'd taken off her blouse and bra, and her breasts were hanging free, because once in a while she'd stop sucking on me and bend over to drag her nipples across my pecker, which made me even more excited.
I got a big kick out of watching her lick me all over and take my pecker in her mouth. Sometimes she'd have my pecker in her mouth and use her tongue to push it from one side of her mouth to the other, so her cheeks would alternately bulge on one side and then on the other. Once I laughed and told her she looked like a squirrel I'd seen at the zoo. I remember she laughed back at me and said if I didn't behave myself she'd really act like a squirrel and eat up my nuts. I didn't understand that at first. Then I remembered some of the guys referred to their balls as nuts, and I laughed too.
I was about to tell her again that she looked like a squirrel, so I could hear the joke once more-when I looked up in the doorway and saw my father standing there, a look of complete astonishment and disbelief on his white face.
It was the end of the world. I knew that for sure. I panicked. I tried to push Aunt Clara's head away, but she thought I was playing and she held onto my thrashing hips and sucked harder on my pecker. I kept crying out, "No, no, no!" When her eyes glanced up at me, I pointed and managed to say in a hoarse voice, "My father!"
She got the message. Fear veiled her eyes, her mouth left me, and she stood up, trying to cover her naked breasts as she turned. When she moved, so did my father. By the time she'd turned completely, he was in front of her, his face a mask of fury. His clenched fist leaped out and struck her full on the face. She uttered an outcry and staggered backwards, crashing into the wall, but before she could fall to the floor, my father was in front of her again, fists leaping out to hit her-in the face, on the breasts, in the stomach. Once, he raised his foot and kicked her between her legs.
And all the while he was calling her names a filthy, rotten slut pervert, a monster doing something like that to an innocent child.
I watched, horrified, as Aunt Clara's face spurted blood, as her pretty little nose twisted, as her lips became bruised. I leaped up and tried to stop him, but he shoved me aside roughly. If my mother hadn't arrived a few seconds before the police, summoned by the neighbors, I think my father would have killed the poor woman.
The aunt's face was disfigured and several bones in her body were broken. The bones healed, but inadequate plastic surgery failed to cover the scars inflicted on her by the irate father. The woman also was indicted on charges of committing an illegal sexual act and contributing to the delinquency of a minor. The father was still angry, but the mother feared the publicity that would ensue, with the result that the charges were finally dropped, although the judge did suggest that perhaps Aunt Clara should consult a competent psychiatrist.
"I felt it was partly my fault," the man said during the interview, "so I refused to testify against her, even though my father threatened to beat me if I didn't. My mother was pretty shocked by what had happened, too-but after all, the woman was her own sister, so she persuaded my father that Aunt Clara had received enough punishment."
Whether or not the punishment was suitable to the crime is not for us to say here, even though a crime was obviously committed. Nevertheless, the man interviewed seemed little the worse for wear as a result of his early exerience in oral sex with an older woman. Admittedly, it did influence his sexual preferences,, for the main portion of his erotic behavior is and has been centered about oral-genital contacts, either as an end in itself or as a highly important preliminary to vaginal intercourse.
It is interesting to note that the father came from a low socio-economic family, while his wife was raised in a higher income group which in general is more sexually permissive, which explains in part their particular attitudes toward what happened. While some ambivalence is evident in their son, it is fortunate for him that he made a suitable psychological adjustment.
This is not always the case, as we shall see in later chapters.
CHAPTER THREE: YOUNG GIRLS, OLDER MEN
Various studies have indicated that the concept of the dirty old man lurking in the shadows, ready to spring out upon the young girl, is more fiction than fact. In reality, most instances of the older man taking advantage of the young girl occur when the girl knows the man, who may live nearby or in the same household, and who may even be related to her. Incest with young females is more prevalent than most people, would like to believe.
An example of this came to our attention when we interviewed a man in his late thirties who is currently under psychiatric care. He seemed anxious to tell his story, yet reluctant as well.
I-I guess I got sort of hung up on this oral sex thing, he said finally. I was a virgin until I went into the army, and then some of the fellows took me into town, got me drunk, and I found myself screwing a prostitute. I don't remember too much about it, except I know I enjoyed myself.
Before that I'd done a lot of masturbating, of course, like the other fellows, but I always did it privately-except once. I was thirteen years old, and I was out in the garage working on my prick, getting it good and stiff. Sometimes the teen-age girl next door would lie out on her lawn in a bathing suit and sun herself if the weather was warm enough. That's when I really liked it, when I could let my gaze wander all over her young breasts and smooth stomach and silken thighs. My prick would get hard in no time at all, and I'd take it in my fist and jerk it off and imagine I was screwing her.
But this particular time I'm telling you about she wasn't out there, so I stood in one corner of the garage, my eyes closed, my mind bringing up a mental picture of the girl next door, while my hand was busy working my prick up and down. I was having a ball-until I heard a sound and became aware that somebody was in the garage with me.
My hand stopped pumping, and I opened my eyes quickly. The garage door was slightly ajar, and a little girl stood there watching me, her thumb in her mouth, her eyes wide with wonder. For a moment, I just stared back at her, too surprised to move. It was the baby sister of the girl next door, about three years old. I remember I was filled with horror at being discovered. I was so shaken up by the unexpected visit I could only stand there as though I were paralyzed, even when she walked up to me and touched my prick with her hand.
That startled me, and I leaped back out of her reach. My prick, still stiff, bobbed up and down, and it seemed to fascinate her. Not taking the thumb out of her mouth, she moved curiously toward me again, hand outstretched. My back was against the wall. I could have moved off to the side to avoid her, but I didn't. I thought of how pleasant it had been when her little hand had circled my prick, and I wanted her to do it again. After all, I rationalized, she was just a little kid who could hardly talk. She wouldn't realize what had happened, and she wouldn't be able to tell anyone about it.
So I just stood there with my stiff prick hanging out and let her reach out and grab it with her hand. She apparently found it fascinating, because she kept opening and closing her hand over it. I began to sweat profusely, and I could feel my body shuddering from head to toe. My prick throbbed and stood up big and stiff and I said, "That's it, keep going. Squeeze it for me, that's it."
Then she seemed to lose interest, let go of it, and all my urgings couldn't make her do it again. I was feeling pretty frustrated. Then I saw her sucking her thumb and I got a crazy idea. Her head was just about level with my prick, so I edged closer to her and let it dangle under her nose and told her to suck on my thumb for a change. She laughed nervously. I wiggled my hips, so my prick would bobble up and down in front of her face, and I said, "Go ahead, suck on it. I'll bet my thumb tastes a lot better than yours." I don't think she believed it was a thumb, because she took her own thumb out of her mouth and looked from it to my prick, for comparison purposes I guess. Anyway, I took that opportunity to move in on her, so the end of my prick went right against her lips.
She seemed surprised, and she wet her lips. Her tongue grazed the top of my prick, and I thought I'd go out of my mind. I thought of how furiously she'd been sucking on her thumb, and I wanted her to suck my prick with the same enthusiasm. I kept giving her instructions. "Go on," I said, "lick it. Put it in your mouth. Suck on it."
Finally, she did. She'd never seen a prick before, I suppose, and her interest was renewed in this new toy she'd discovered. She took hold of it with both hands, looked at it for a moment, then bent her head and took the head of it in her mouth and began sucking on it.
Her mouth was warm and moist, and her teeth dragged all around the head of my prick-and I knew it wouldn't be long before I came. In fact, it was just a few seconds later. I didn't want it to go in her mouth, so I pushed her head away at the last minute. I wasn't quick enough, though, and some of it got on her face, and she started crying with fright. I always have some Kleenex handy, so I got some out of my pocket and got the stuff up off her face, at the same time trying to calm her down. I didn't want anybody to come running out into the garage to see what the fuss was about and find me with my damp prick hanging out while I was busy mopping up the stuff off the little girl's face.
It would look a little suspicious, to say the least.
Anyway, I got us both cleaned up and her quieted down with promises of an ice cream on a stick. We sneaked out of the garage and walked down to the corner store, where I bought us both some ice cream. As we walked back home, I watched her lick the ice cream. She'd start at the bottom and run her tongue all the way up the side. She'd do this over and over and then she'd take the whole thing and put it in her mouth and roll it around. I got excited all over again thinking how I'd like her to do that to my prick. Maybe the next time I could coax her to do it-maybe by pretending my prick was an ice cream cone. I might even, I thought with a grin, get some real ice cream and rub it all over my prick so it would taste good to her.
Except there wasn't a next time. I guess I was naive to think she wouldn't tell her parents about what happened to her-or at least try to tell them.
The mother of the girl stopped me the next day. She was very suspicious, but I knew the three-year-old girl hadn't completely gotten the idea across-just enough to make the woman wonder. I was scared silly, of course, but I did my best to be calm. I just said innocently that I'd bought the girl an ice cream on the stick; then I looked worried and told her I hoped it hadn't spoiled her supper.
The woman was obviously relieved; she wanted to believe nothing, had happened, so I gave her some good reasons for believing that. When she was gone, I breathed a sigh of relief myself. One thing was certain: I wasn't going to try anything like that again.' I was old enough to know I could get into a whole lot of trouble that way.
Why did I do it? I don't know, exactly. I certainly wasn't very proud of myself. I tried to tell myself that it was the little girl who'd done it to me, but then I really knew that I'd tricked her into it. And I considered myself very lucky I'd gotten away with it.
But I had enjoyed what had happened. Right or wrong, I'd really enjoyed having the girl's lips sucking on me. The next time I saw her teen-age sister, I thought about how nice it would be if I could take my stiff prick and push it right in between her red lips, shove it past her teeth and down deep in her mouth. Quite a few times I never even thought about her breasts or her crotch at all, just imagining her mouth was sucking on my prick, and I came bigger and better than ever.
The little girl next door was getting bigger too, and she was learning to talk a lot better. I wondered if she still remembered what had happened in the garage, and if some day she'd go up to her mother and say, "Guess what, Mommy, the boy next door let me suck on his thumb, the one between his legs!" My goose would be cooked for sure, then. I didn't know how likely or unlikely this possibility was, but I knew I felt a lot better when the family next door decided to move away to another town.
In high school I never had many dates. I wasn't a bad-looking kid, but I was always very shy. Most times I never got a kiss on the cheek or the lips, much less on the prick. It would get stiff, sure, when I was holding a girl, especially if I was tongue-kissing her. I'd feel her tongue going in and out of my mouth and I'd press my stiff prick up against her leg and come in my pants. But most times I didn't even do that.
Like I said, I was a virgin when I was drafted, but some of my buddies in basic training took care of that. I was pretty drunk, but I remember there was this young girl with tiny breasts, homely, with stringy blonde hair. I was lying on a bed in her room with my pants and underwear off, and she was sucking on my prick. I didn't have too much of a hard on, but she was gobbling me up. Every once in a while she'd stop sucking on me and come up on the bed to squat over me and try to guide my prick up inside her blonde crotch. When that didn't work, she'd go back to sucking me.
It was all very pleasant, but I was stoned too much to really appreciate it all. I recall vaguely that she finally got me stiff enough to put up inside her and have an orgasm. So that's how I lost my virginity, at the hands-or rather, at the mouth and crotch-of a prostitute.
After that, every three or four weeks I'd go into town and get laid. All of the girls sucked your pricks, so there wasn't any problem about being too embarrassed to ask them to do it. I liked to go with the younger girls. There was one about sixteen that reminded me of the girl next door back home. Sometimes I'd close my eyes while she was sucking me off and pretend that it was the teenager I'd known years ago-and once I even imagined it was her three-year-old sister! For some reason, the act seemed even sexier than regular screwing, and a lot of times I'd come right in the girl's mouth without even missing shoving it up into her crotch.
When I got out of the army, famine set in again. I didn't know of any civilian prostitutes and none of my friends seemed able or willing to help me. And all the girls I went out with didn't put out. Oh, a few fast feels here and there, and my prick would get stiff, but that was generally it. I knew some of the other guys were making it, but I couldn't seem to get anywhere-until I met Brenda.
I was at college on the G.I. Bill, and she was another student there. She seemed shy, like me, and I guess that was what attracted me to her. She wasn't pretty really, just average, with a not-bad figure, although a little skimpy in the breast department. On our date I took her to a movie, then to a bar for a couple of drinks to loosen her up. Afterward, I drove up to a local lovers' lane and parked.
She didn't have any objections to any of that so far, so I figured I was in for some pretty fancy necking and petting-which is the way it started out. I took her in my arms and kissed her for a while. I started sticking my tongue in and out of her mouth. Then I unbuttoned her blouse, unsnapped her bra and put one of my hands over her breasts, massaging first one of them and then the other. They were small, a compact handful, and I felt the nipples pushing up against my hand. They weren't the only things pushing up by that time. My prick was getting in the mood, standing up stiff and straight like it had someplace to go.
I knew where I wanted it to go. Instead of my tongue moving in and out of her mouth, I wanted my prick to do that. The idea got me even more excited, and automatically I reached down between her legs and shoved a hand right up into her crotch. I'd expected her to resist that, but she didn't. In stead, she sighed, settled back on the seat, and spread her legs some more. I accepted the invitation by rubbing my fingers all around the outside of her panties, feeling her crotch through the thin cloth. She started to breathe very heavily and after a few seconds, she whispered in my ear, "Let's go in the back seat."
Before I could answer, she reached under her skirt and pulled her panties down over her legs and threw them on the floor. Then she scampered into the back seat. I followed her. By the time I'd gotten my fly unzipped and my prick out, she was lying on her back, with one leg raised up along the seatback and the other resting on the floor. She reached out and pulled me down on top of her, then reached in between us to guide my stiff prick right up into the hole in her crotch.
It felt great. It really did. Even while I was screwing her, I thought that this was only the beginning. I thought how we'd do this often now, and not only this but other things, too-like having her use her mouth on me, for example. The thought of that got me even more excited than what we were actually doing, and I shot off into her without any hesitation.
We lay like that for a while, and then I got up, helped her into the front seat, where I sat beside her with my arm around her, kissing her. After about ten minutes, a funny look crossed her face and she moved back and said, "Hey, I was so excited I didn't think of it. You didn't use a rubber!" Hell, I'd forgotten all about it. Anyhow, I drove her home as fast as I could so she could take a douche.
But it was too late, as I discovered several weeks later. Brenda was pregnant!
We tried to get rid of it with some home remedies, but nothing seemed to work. We thought of going to a doctor to have an abortion, but the only ones we got any leads on cost more money than either or both of us could get. So we wound up married and had a "premature" baby. I had to drop out of college, and I guess I was lucky to get a job as an insurance salesman with Brenda's father.
Anyway, I thought, I'll be getting a piece of tail regularly. And the other thing, too; I mean having her suck my prick. Except that wasn't quite the way it worked out. Brenda seemed to resent my making love to her. I guess she thought it was the screwing I'd given her in the back seat of the car that had caused all the trouble in the first place, and she was determined not to please me. Her attitude affected me, because I was having trouble getting stiff with her. I thought maybe if she'd suck on me it would help, but when I suggested it she hit me and called me a damned pervert. After awhile, I got the phone number from some guy in the office of a call girl, and I went to see her a couple of times and had her suck my prick for fifteen dollars. I liked it, but I thought it was unfair that I had to pay for it when I had a wife at home.
Then, finally, I didn't have a wife at all. Brenda decided she was going to take Debbie, our little girl, and get a divorce. I didn't stop her, because I didn't want to live with her. It wasn't doing either of us any good, sexually or any other way, and we both recognized the marriage was a mistake. We got separate apartments, and the divorce papers were made out and acted upon. I was supposed to send in money every month toward support of the child, in return for which I had visitation rights and the right to have Debbie live with me on weekends. I didn't bother with either one for more than a year-until Brenda decided she wanted to get married again.
And you know something funny? She wanted me to take care of Debbie while she went on her honeymoon! I told her she had a lot of nerve. She told me back that her new husband Steve might want to adopt the little girl as his own, in which case I'd be off the hook as far as making payments was concerned-so she warned me that I'd better be nice. So I figured, what the hell, I supposed I could stand taking care of a two-and-a-half-year-old kid for a couple of weeks if I had to. A couple of days later, Brenda stopped by with the little girl, a suitcase full of clothes and toys, and a set of instructions for me on the care and feeding of Debbie. I wasn't looking forward to suffering through it for a couple of weeks, but, there was a woman in the apartment next door who I figured could take care of the kid while I worked or when I had someplace to go.
She was a well-behaved kid, I'll say that for her. Didn't cry much at all, just when she was hungry. It was while I was giving her a bottle of milk that I noticed the sucking motions she made on the nipple were very much like that other three-year-old girl had made on my prick a long time ago-and like the whores had done to me since that time. Just thinking about it made me feel very sexy, and my prick started getting stiff and hard. But I didn't do anything about it-at least not just then.
It happened when I was giving Debbie a bath in the tub. She liked the water and was splashing all around, sloshing it over the edge and getting my clothes wet. I thought it would be better if I took off my clothes because of that. Later, I wondered if that actually was the reason, or if it was just a convenient excuse. Anyway, I was kneeling beside the tub, and she noticed my prick dangling there in front of me and reached out for it. I pushed her hand away, I really did, but she was persistent. It quieted her down when I let her fondle and play with it. But it didn't quiet me down. My prick stood up big and hard, and I got so excited I was sloshing more water on the floor than Debbie was.
That's when I got in the tub with her. In thinking back on it, I'm pretty sure it wasn't because of the water on the floor. I knew, at least subconsciously, what I really wanted. And the little girl was very accommodating about it. At first I'd put my stiff prick up between her legs and then pull her legs tightly around it while I worked the prick up and down. She giggled and thought that was pretty funny. Then she'd squeeze it in one hand and then the other hand and then in both hands. Finally, she put it in her mouth and sucked on it as though it were her bottle nipple.
I felt pangs of guilt just about then. But what the hell, I thought, the kid's mother was on her honeymoon with this guy Steve, and she was probably sucking his prick, something she wouldn't do for me-so it was only fair that her daughter should give me the same thing. Besides, I went on convincing myself, what harm could it do? The kid was less than three years old and wouldn't remember any of what had happened. Also, I'd only do it this once, and never again.
Debbie kept sucking on it furiously, trying to get nourishment. When a few drops of liquid appeared on the tip of my prick, she made a face and hesitated, not liking the taste of it. I was afraid she was going to stop, but she started in again with renewed determination. My prick started throbbing and jerking, and the liquid spurted out of the end of it. Debbie twisted her face away as I came; part of it got on her lips, the rest shot onto her face and in her hair, and she got frightened and started crying. I washed her off and calmed her down and kissed her and said there was nothing to be afraid of, that it was all over and we'd never do it again.
And we didn't do it again either-until the next night, anyway. All day long I went around thinking of how sexy it had been to have an innocent child sucking on me, and by the time I got home that evening I had me a hard on that wasn't going to quit. You know the old saying about a stiff prick not having any conscience? Well, I knew the truth of that then. I gave myself the same reasons all over again why it was only fair and why it wouldn't do any harm, and I added another one-Debbie was only going to be with me a short while, and it was now or never.
I didn't bother with the tub routine that night. I just got undressed and I undressed her and we both lay naked on the bed and fooled around. I stuck my prick up between her legs from the front and from the back. I rolled around and tried different positions. It got very hard, but I didn't attempt to stick it in the hole in her crotch, just contenting myself with rubbing up against it from the outside. After all, a little innocent playfulness wouldn't do any harm, but actually trying sexual intercourse was another matter, and I wasn't going that far.
So I let Debbie fool around with my stiff prick again. She laughed and seemed to really enjoy playing with this new toy of hers. She'd hold it in one or both hands, rub it up and down, move it back and forth. What I really wanted her to do, of course, was put it in her mouth and suck on it, and I told her to do that. To help get her in the mood, I started kissing her body myself. Her skin was soft and smooth, and I enjoyed it. I kissed her neck, her shoulders, her tiny breasts, her stomach, her legs. I'd never gone down on a girl before, but it was while I was kissing the insides of her thighs that the idea occurred to me. I stared for a moment at her tiny, hairless slit and then I moved my head forward and stuck out my tongue and gave it a big lick from one end to the other. She giggled, pleased and tickled, so I did it again.
After awhile I told her it was her turn. I crawled up beside her on the bed so my stiff prick was right under her nose, and she got the idea right away. She took hold of it and pulled the tip of it into her mouth and began sucking hungrily on it. I wished we could have sixty-nined it, but she was still too small for that. Meanwhile, I'd have to settle for what we were doing now, which was still plenty good.
After I'd come, though, the old feelings of guilt and shame came back to plague me, and I promised both of us I wouldn't ever do it again. But, of course, I did. I did it the next day, and the day after that. My rationalization then was that when my ex-wife returned from her honeymoon with her new husband, I wouldn't be seeing young Debbie and thus wouldn't be able to do anything with her, so that would automatically solve my problem.
And it might have, too. Even then, though, I had in the back of my mind that I might borrow the young girl some weekends to have a little fun. As it turned out, however, fate had other plans for both of us. Brenda and her husband were involved in a car crash while returning home, and both of them were killed.
Which meant that little Debbie would be living with me permanently!
Of course, I was sorry that Brenda was dead. I didn't like her, but I didn't really hate her, and I know now that it would have been better for our daughter if she'd had a mother to bring her up. Nevertheless, I determined to turn over a new leaf and not to touch the little girl anymore or let her play with my prick.
Well, that resolve lasted about a week. It was a case of the spirit being willing, but the flesh being even more willing. I had Debbie on my lap just before bedtime, and I was reading a story to her, when I felt her little hand reach into the fly of my pajamas and grasp my prick. That did it. She seemed anxious to see her toy she hadn't seen in such a long time, and she was quite enthusiastic about kissing it hello.
You can imagine what happened after that. I didn't even bother fighting my conscience about it. It got to be a natural thing for the girl to play with my prick and to suck on it, and sometimes I'd return the favor by putting my head up between her legs and licking her there. Sometimes I'd put some jam or peanut butter on my prick or in her crotch to make it even tastier.
Needless to say, I swore Debbie to secrecy about the little games we were playing. Once, her grandmother, Brenda's mother, stopped by to say hello, and the little kid nearly blabbed out the whole thing. Fortunately, I shushed her up, and later I gave her a good spanking to make her remember to keep the secret.
I didn't have any desire to see any other girls-I mean ones more my own age-and why should I? I was having too much fun right at home, and Debbie was taking care of my sexual needs just fine. And she was growing older, too, and becoming less of a baby and more of a grown girl. Her limbs started curving and she got big enough so we could sixty-nine without too much trouble. We went on like this for over ten years without anyone knowing our little secret. When she was twelve, she was a regular little woman, with tiny but obvious breasts sprouting on her chest and fuzzy pubic hairs sprouting in her crotch.
She accepted our relationship without question, but I still worried that she might tell somebody about it. Suppose she asked one of her girl friends how she did it with her father, then my goose would really be cooked. So I did my best to warn her about the necessity for keeping our activities secret, without making it seem as though we were doing something we shouldn't. As for me, I had no more trouble accepting it. After ten years you get used to something like that. But I discovered it was getting increasingly difficult for me to keep away from her in other ways.
I mean I'd be sucking on her breasts or licking the hole in her crotch, or she'd be working my prick over with her mouth-and I'd have the urge to leap on top of her, spread her legs, and shove my prick right up her crotch as far as it would go. But I resisted. After ten years of having oral sex with Debbie, I wasn't about to screw her out of her virginity. She was starting to have orgasms herself, and she really enjoyed what we did together.
Then one day she came home looking very frightened. She was thirteen then and a big girl all around. At first she Wouldn't tell me what had happened, but I kept at her. Finally, she started crying and blurted it out. There was this boy in one of her classes she liked very much. He'd taken her to a hamburger stand for lunch, then sugested they play hooky. They went over to his home. Since both his parents worked, they had the house to themselves. At first they just listened to some records and talked. Then he put his arm around her and kissed her. The necking was followed by some heavy petting. He tongue-kissed her and put his hands in her blouse under her bra and felt her young firm breasts, and then he reached under her skirt, put his fingers in her crotch and started finger-screwing her. Debbie got so excited, she forgot my warning and reached out for his prick bulging against his pants. She kept massaging him until he couldn't stand it any more. He unzipped his fly and took his prick out for her to play with, which she did for a while and then put her head in his lap and sucked on him.
I listened in growing horror as the girl brokenly told me what had happened. I should have expected it might happen someday, but I'd always put the thoughts aside. But the nightmare was to get worse, I found, because she hadn't finished her story.
The boy had finally gotten so excited, he couldn't control himself. His prick was standing up stiff and hard, throbbing, and he was breathing heavily. Something had to give, but he had his own ideas about how he wanted it. He pushed the girl back on the couch, pulled off her panties and threw himself between her legs. She said it hurt her very much, and she felt she was bleeding, but he kept ramming his stiff prick up between her legs until he'd gotten it completely inside her. Then he shoved it in and out, in and out, until with a grunt of relief he shot off.
For a moment I just sat there stunned, not wanting to believe my ears. Then I guess I went out of my head. I slapped Debbie and called her a dirty, filthy little slut. I said that I'd wanted to shove my prick up inside her, but I'd held off-and for what? So some dumb kid could do it to her! I was so angry with her I kept slapping her around. I was remembering the times I'd come so close to screwing her, how I'd wanted to and yet controlled myself so she could remain a virgin. And it was all for nothing!
She was still crying as I dragged her into the bedroom, dumped her on the bed, clawed her panties down over her squirming legs. There was only one thought on my mind just then-to shove my prick up inside her the way I'd wanted to do for years.
I landed on top of her, made contact, and rammed it up hard as far as I could go. All my senses seemed numb except those centered around my prick. I guess I was aware she was screaming, but it was on a subconscious level, and I didn't really hear her until the police arrived and dragged me off.
They'd been called by the woman next door who thought I was killing my daughter.
As pointed out earlier, the man interviewed is under intensive psychiatric care. He has severe guilt feelings about his acts, but it is interesting to note that he regards his punishment as retribution for his having intercourse with his daughter, not for his previous oral sex relations.
"If we'd just kept on sucking each other," he said, "everything would have been all right. It was the screwing that got me in trouble."
It was obvious that he regarded their oral-genital contacts as amoral. "It was something like jerking each other off," he offered by way of rationalization, "except we used mouths instead of hands."
Another point to consider here is the fact that the girl, raised to accept oral sexuality as a normal thing, had no feelings of guilt or shame regarding the behavior. If the Judeo-Christian ethic concerning such matters had been instilled in her, the situation would have been quite different. Thus, the acceptance or rejection of this sexual conduct appears to be a matter of conditioning-a factor which we shall continue to observe in the chapters to come.
CHAPTER FOUR: ORAL SEX GAMES TEEN-AGERS PLAY
To a man of forty who recalls the girls he dated or ogled twenty-five years ago, teen-age girls today seem incredibly grown up by comparison. This is partly because of the short skirts and the low-cut blouses and tight sweaters which are standard uniform among young girls, intended to show off the fact that they have breasts and legs and to hint that other even more interesting treasures lie concealed a scant few inches out of vision.
The girls themselves are increasingly aware of their own sexuality and their manner of dress emphasizes this. Added to this are the unmistakably sexual movements of modern dances in which they constantly engage themselves, and the frank discussion of sexual needs and desires which, at this age, are bubbling up inside both boys and girls, eager to find expression of one kind or another. Expressed in words, the language is frequently that formerly heard only from the mouths of truck drivers and "horny" soldiers.
The question of whether this sexual open-mindedness is a good or a bad thing we shall leave to moralists and others. The fact is, it does exist. The days when the average teenage boy or girl is content with merely a handshake, even on the first date, is apparently a thing of the past. The girl who does not let a boy feel her naked breasts and caress them is old-fashioned and just not with it. She is likely to be considered a square-or its equivalent in the constantly changing teen-age vernacular and wind up with fewer and fewer dates, her ex-boyfriends having gone on to greener and more willing pastures.
The teen-age petting technique-whether it takes a few minutes or a few weeks or months-is generally the same. It starts out with lip kissing which gets more involved by the use of the tongue in a "French" or "soul" kiss.
"Man, that really turns me on," one male teen-ager said. "When I've got my hot tongue going in and out of her mouth like that, I get the damnedest sensation in my cock. It's something like fucking using your tongue and her mouth instead."
Several teen-age girls interviewed reported similar feelings, their minds obviously drawing the same parallel. Generally, however, they (as well as the boys) think of the tongue-in-mouth movement as similar to a penis in vagina activity, rather than penis in mouth or tongue in vagina.
The next target for exploration by the boy is generally the female's breasts, using his hands at first and then his lips. With some, depending upon their backgrounds, it remains at this level. With many others, the girl lets the boy put his fingers up between her legs, insert one or several of them into the opening and massage her inner lips, the vagina, and the clitoris. Girls wishing to reciprocate may reach out and rub her male petting-partner's penis through his clothing or take it out and hold and caress its naked length.
When this last stage is reached, generally orgasm will follow, either through mutual masturbation or by actual vaginal intercourse.
As we have already pointed out, because of the ethical, religious, and legal bans upon mouth-genital contacts, such sexual behavior usually takes place after the others have been utilized. Naturally, if one of the teen-age partners is experienced in this field, the activity is much expedited.
A lot of times a girl won't go down on you, but she'll let you do it to her, one such male said. Like the date I had last week, a girl I'd been dating off and on for about a month. We'd done a lot of heavy petting-you know, like I'd suck on her nipples and stick my finger up inside her snatch to masturbate her clit. It always got her pretty excited, but I haven't gotten her laid yet. All she'll do is hold my prick in her hand and jerk me off. Once she let me put it up between her legs, but she had her panties on to make sure there wouldn't be any accidents. I guess it got her too hot and bothered, because even though she enjoyed it that way she wouldn't let me do it again.
A couple of times I suggested that if she didn't want to fuck the regular way, then she could go down on me. But for some reason she didn't want to do it. When I asked her if she'd like me to go down on her, she hesitated and then said it wouldn't be fair for me to do it to her but not have her return the favor. I told her there wouldn't be any strings attached, that I'd like to do it to her-which, by the way, was perfectly true. It makes me excited just to think about it.
I remember a couple of years ago when we were living someplace else, the couple next door used to do it a'lot. I know, because they never pulled their shades all the way down to the sill, and I'd go outside in the alleyway and sneak over to the window and watch what they were doing. I knew they didn't realize I was there, but it was as though they were putting on a show. The woman always wore a black garter belt, black stockings, and black shoes-and nothing else-while her husband was stark naked.
They went through the same routine every time, and I guess they'd been doing it for some time before I discovered them. The husband would sit down on the floor and the wife would parade around in front of him, swinging her hips and her boobies. The guy would keep pulling on his prick until it got big and hard. Or at least as big and as hard as it was going to get. Actually, he had just a little prick, but his pulling on it and the sight of his wife got to it and it stood right up straight in his lap.
I could understand how he felt, because I had my own hands busy. The wife wasn't a bad-looking dish either. Nice boobies, with nipples that stood out, not bad legs, and a bushy snatch she kept twitching in front of the guy's nose. The first time I saw it I shot my wad right off against the house, and the next day I had to aim the hose over there to wash it off because I was afraid they'd suspect what had been happening under their window. It was too great a show to miss.
Anyway, the husband would get on his knees, bend his head down, and start to kiss her feet above the shoes, slowly working his way up along her legs while she stood with her legs spread and a look of pure delight on her face. He kept kissing her legs and licking the flesh all the way up to the bush, and I could see her shiver from head to toe when his tongue shot up along the outside of her snatch.
Then she'd back up and lie down on the bed with her legs spread and order him to go over.. You should've seen the guy scramble across the floor, still on his knees. Then he'd put his head up between her legs and start in again. First on the toes, then the calves, then along the inner parts of her thighs, until he finally got his tongue right up inside the girl's snatch and wiggled it around. I thought she'd go right out of her mind. I know she came at least three or four times every time I watched. Finally, she'd let her husband hop on top of her and they'd go to town that way.
So I could see this was a good way of getting a girl all hot and bothered, and I thought I'd try it out myself. I was a little bashful at first, but after awhile I didn't think anything of it. Sometimes I'd ask the girl, but most times I'd just put my head in her lap and start kissing her all over between her legs and a lot of times she'd get so hot that it was no trouble at all hopping on top of her and fucking when we were both worked up into the mood.
Anyway, this girl I was telling you about. I could tell she was pretty interested in my putting my tongue up her snatch, so I went right ahead and pulled up her skirt and started kissing her along the insides of her legs, working my way up to her panties. She kept spreading her legs a little more as I got closer and closer, until she moaned and moved her legs completely apart as my lips touched her there. Her snatch was warm and moist, even through the cloth, and it smelled sort of perfumy. I kept kissing the outside of her panties there, while she grabbed my head and held it in position. Then I reached in and worked her panties down over her legs.
by that time, you can bet my prick was up pretty stiff. I wanted her to suck on it, but I knew she'd resist if I tried to force the issue. I also wanted to shove her back on the blanket and ram it up into her snatch, but I also knew that would make her panic. Meanwhile, I had to get my kicks the way I could.
I began kissing her all over the outside of her snatch. It was hairy and moist and very hot. I spread her flesh with my fingers and stuck my tongue up inside her, just a little at first, forcing my way. I didn't have any trouble, because she was already lubricated, and I slid right in and wiggled my tongue around until I found her clit. I started working on that, pushing it with my tongue one way and then another.
I was feeling no pain, but it was sure as hell making her jump. She kept moaning and running, her fingers through my hair and telling me not to stop, to keep on sucking, to stick my tongue deep inside her, and that it was the best thing anybody'd ever done to her. Her whole body trembled, and jerked her hips back and forth, and then suddenly she started shaking. Then she let out a little shriek, relaxed and sighed, and I knew she'd had an orgasm.
She looked so grateful when she reached out for my stiff prick I thought she was going to go down on me finally. I guess the thought even occurred to her, but she backed off and just kept pulling on me until I came. I didn't mind that too much, because I really get a kick out of sucking snatches. But one of these days I'm going to stick my tongue up inside her and get her so damned excited she won't realize I've hopped on top of her until she's already fucked and it's too late.
As we can see, the boy considered his cunnilingual activities as a temporary end in it self, and also as a potential means to another end-regular vaginal intercourse. This particular case points up the fact that where oral sex is concerned, there are those who believe it is more blessed to receive than to give.
An opposite case came to light when we interviewed a skinny, not too attractive teenage girl who freely confessed to committing fellatio on her dates.
A lot of girls don't even want to talk about it, she said, because they think it's too dirty. Of course, some of them may be lying about that, but I think most of them are serious-at least the ones I know.
The ones she knew came from her own stratum in the socioeconomic structure, the lower-to-middle, which statistics tell us is not conducive to oral sexual behavior.
As you know, she continued, we come from a small town, and to tell the truth, I never even thought much about putting a guy's dinger in my mouth-until I visited my cousin in New York City during my Easter vacation. My cousin was polite enough about having me, but she only had one bedroom to share with me, and there was this guy I was sure she was shacking up with-and let's face it, I was a fifth wheel. The guy was obviously annoyed with me. Cynthia-that's my cousin-wasn't so obvious, but it was clear to me that my presence did complicate matters.
Anyway, one night she went out with this guy, and I sat around and watched television for a while and then went to bed. I woke up when the two of them came home, but I didn't get up-not just then, that is. I tried to go back to sleep, but as soon as I was about to drift off, Cynthia let out a little squeal and my eyes popped open. Then she giggled playfully and said they couldn't, not on the couch, not with her little cousin in the other room. Then the guy said I was probably sound asleep, and there was a bunch of whispering.
I couldn't help it. I wondered what they were doing on the couch. I held off as long as I could, then I got out of bed and cautiously made my way into the dark hallway. I figured I'd have to put my head around the comer, and I was afraid they'd see me. I was hesitating, trying to make up my mind, when I discovered I didn't have to look around the corner. Across from me, on the opposite wall, was a big mirror that reflected a perfect image of the two people on the couch.
I almost gasped aloud at what they were doing, but I stopped myself just in time. It was two years ago, and I was only thirteen and I hadn't been out on any dates or done any petting at the time, so it was all brand new to me. They were sitting together on the couch, kissing and fondling each other. The guy had her blouse open and was running his hands up under her bra over her breasts. He had his fly open, and his dinger was out and standing up like a pole, and my cousin Cynthia had it in her hand and was working it up and down.
I'd seen my father's dinger, so I knew what one looked like, but this was the first time I'd ever seen one standing up like that. I guess I was fascinated by it, because I couldn't tear my eyes away. It was long and thick, with a red top and . some light colored hairs sprouting from the bottom where 'it came up out of the guy's fly.
The guy whispered something into cousin Cynthia's ear, and she got a big grin on her face and told him sure, she'd be glad to. I wondered what it was that she'd be glad to do, but I didn't have long to wait. She slid off the couch onto her knees in front of him and bent her head into his lap. If it hadn't been for the mirror's angle, I wouldn't have been able to see what she was doing, but as it was I had a great view. As I watched, she held his dinger in both her hands and her lips played over it like it was some kind of popsicle-and then she put it right in her mouth and started sucking on it!
I'd heard about things like that, but I guess until that moment I'd thought the girls who told me had been making it up, thinking I was a naive little kid who'd fall for any story. But here it was, happening right before my eyes. I suddenly felt sweaty all over, and very warm and wet between my legs. Without thinking, I reached down there and put a finger up inside my muff and started working the button around. It felt very good, like it always did, and I knew the sight of those two on the couch was hurrying up the process.
With her hands, Cynthia opened up the guy's belt and pulled his pants away so she could get closer to him. As I watched, she took out his balls and rolled them around in her hand while she sucked on him, moving her head up and down over his dinger in slow, rhythmic movements. I thought the guy was going out of his head. He had his eyes closed and his head was rolling back and forth and he was moaning and saying over and over, something like, "That's it, baby. Suck it. Suck it good!" and wiggling his hips and raising himself up off the couch from time to time.
I could tell the guy was having himself a good time, but I wondered if Cynthia enjoyed what she was doing. I couldn't very well ask her, not then or later, so I stared at the guy's dinger with her mouth working over it, and I put one of my fingers in my own mouth and pretended it wasn't my finger at all but a piece of stiff flesh out there on the couch. I worked one finger in and out of my mouth and the other finger in and out of my muff, and all the time I was watching Cynthia suck on this guy's dinger right in front of me-and I had me an orgasm that shook me so hard I thought they'd hear it in the other room.
But they were too busy to hear anything. I noticed that Cynthia had one of her own hands now up under her skirt and was masturbating like I was. I'd been masturbating for over a year regularly at that time, but I knew this was the best one I'd ever had. And I wasn't going to give up with just one either. My muff was pretty hot and juicy now, and the button was standing up stiff against my finger as I rubbed it back and forth, bringing the sensations all over again.
I came four times, one right after the other, before the guy groaned, lifted his hips up off the couch, and then shook all over like he was having an orgasm himself. All the while, Cynthia kept on sucking his dinger, swallowing the juice that came out of it. I didn't know if she liked the taste of it, or if she just didn't want her couch or rug to get stained. As for me, I had no idea what it tasted like. I could imagine my finger was a guy's stiff dinger, but only up to a certain point. It had been fun pretending, but I had an idea it would be even more fun if sometime it was the real thing.
Cynthia got up off her knees and sat beside the guy, and they kissed and hugged. The guy's dinger wasn't stiff anymore, just hanging there between his legs. Suddenly, Cynthia got a funny look on her face and glanced up at the mirror. Automatically, I backed up into the dark corridor, hoping she hadn't seen me. Then I went back into the bedroom and as quickly and as quietly as I could I got back into bed and pretended to be asleep. Which was a good thing because a few seconds later, my cousin came tiptoeing in, then let out a sigh of relief at finding me asleep.
Nothing else happened like that during the rest of the time I visited her, but whenever I masturbated after that, I put my finger in my mouth and sucked on it while I pushed it in and out. When I got back home, I bought some long balloons at the store and I'd fill them up with warm water and suck on them. It felt better that way, because it wasn't my own finger, and the warm rubber felt something like skin and I could convince myself it was a guy's dinger moving in and out of my mouth.
I kept doing it that way for the next two years. Only this year, my parents let me date boys, mainly because I bugged them so much about it. They think a fifteen-year-old girl is too young, but a lot of girls I know who are much younger go out on dates with boys. Of course, I have to put up with a lecture before I go-you know, be careful, don't let a boy put his hands on your body; it's bad, and he won't respect you, and so on. But, of course, I did, not from the start, though, because I was too i scared for that. I know I'm not very pretty. I don't ' have many dates, and after the first few times I pushed a boy's hands away, the boy wouldn't call me again.
So I let them do other things beside kiss me. I mean, a lot of them just wanted to feel you up over your blouse, and others just stick their hands in and touch your breasts. That always made them very excited, and sometimes when I looked down at their laps I saw their dingers pushing against the front of their pants. My mouth watered at the sight of that. I wanted to reach down and unzip their fly and take out the dinger and put my head down and suck on it. But I didn't-not at first, that is, and it was pretty frustrating.
During the summer, I'd go out to the municipal swimming pool or the beach and watch the boys sunning themselves. A lot of them wore tight suits that showed off everything they had, especially if the briefs were wet. I tried to imagine them without the suits, stark naked, with their dingers hanging out for me to look at. Of course, I wanted to do a lot more than just look at them, but I tried to be satisfied with that-until about five months ago.
We were having a beach party. It started about four or five in the afternoon with swimming and volleyball games, and then when it got dark we built bonfires and roasted hot dogs and sat around and talked and listened to the transistor radios. A lot of the guys and girls were pairing up, huddling or laying under a blanket together to keep warm-among other things. I had the warm hot dog in my mouth, when I got a familiar urge down inside me. I closed my eyes and began sucking on the hot dog, pretending as usual. I popped my eyes open as a boy's voice said laughingly near me, "I got something better than that for you to suck on, baby." I was surprised and embarrassed, but I still felt the warm feeling gushing around inside me. I opened my eyes to find a handsome young guy with a grin on his face. You know the kind-a football hero type. I knew it was now or never, so I took a deep breath and said, "Prove it."
He stared at me for a minute, then said, "Do you mean it?" and I told him, "Try me." I was surprised myself at my boldness. I guess it was just that after two years of sticking fingers and balloons and hot dogs in my mouth, I was getting desperate for the real thing. Anyway, the guy picked up a blanket, looked around and motioned me to go with him. We went away from the crowd to a point well beyond the bonfires and wrapped ourselves in the blanket on the sand.
I felt very warm and cozy there, with our bodies stretched out and touching each other. He kissed me and undid my bra and played with my breasts until the nipples got hard. Something else was getting hard, too-on him, under his bathing suit, and I could feel it pressing stiffly up against my legs. He tried to take down the bottom part of my bikini, but I wouldn't let him. I didn't want any accidents to happen. But he took off his own suit, and told me to start sucking.
by that time I was so worked up that any feelings of shame or guilt or embarrassment couldn't have affected me. His dinger was standing up stiff and straight against me. I reached down and touched it and felt it throb against my hand. The skin was soft and warm, something like a balloon filled with warm water or a hot dog, yet different. Without hesitating, I slid down alongside him, my mouth watering. For two years I'd been waiting to do this-and I wanted to enjoy every minute of it.
I rested my head on the inside of his thigh and just played with his balls and dinger for a while. He liked that, because he jerked and throbbed around, and I could hear him groan up there even above the sound of the surf nearby and the music some distance away. Then I reached my tongue out and just touched the tip of his dinger. He nearly jumped out of the blanket at that, and impatiently he grabbed the top of my head and forced it closer to him. I'd wanted to take it slow and easy, and I opened my mouth to tell him so, but then my mouth was filled with his dinger right up to the balls and I couldn't say a word.
But then I didn't want to say anything. It was the moment I'd been waiting for. He kept jerking his hips in and out, shoving his dinger in and out of my mouth. I closed my lips tightly around him both ways, holding him. He smelled wonderful down there and he tasted even better. I wanted it to last forever, but I knew it couldn't possibly. He was even more excited than I was, and a minute later, he grabbed my head to hold it still and shoved his dinger as far into my mouth as it would go. I felt hot juice spurt against the roof of my mouth as his dinger throbbed and shook, and I had to swallow quickly so I wouldn't gag on the stuff.
When he was through, I crawled up beside him again. He kissed me on the cheek and hugged me. He wouldn't kiss me on the mouth, which I sort of resented, because it was his dinger I'd sucked on and his juice that I'd had in my mouth. He laughed and said, "Whew, you're a hot little package. Too bad-" He stopped, but I knew what he was going to say. "Too bad you're so skinny and homely!"
But I was feeling too good to be angry with him. Besides, I couldn't kid myself into believing I was pretty, with a good figure, when I could just look in my mirror and see the opposite was true. And I had enjoyed having his stiff dinger inside my mouth, feeling it swell and jerk around and shoot off. It gave me the sexiest feeling I'd ever had in my life. I wished I'd thought to masturbate while I was doing it to him, except I was pretty busy. Even so, I knew I was so excited I was pretty close to coming, so I reached down under my bathing suit and started doing me right then and there.
The guy laughed and said it was funny, he'd seen me around school, but he hadn't the least idea I was such a sexy girl. He wanted to know when we could get together again, and I told him the night of the dance-if he took me. He backed off then. Apparently, I was good enough to suck his dinger for him, but not good enough to take to a big dance. He said he already had a date, and I told him that he could let his date suck him off-and I got up, put on my bra, and stamped off to join the party.
I was pretty sure his date wouldn't do it to him. A lot of girls I knew put out for a guy, but they thought sucking on him was too dirty.
The girl went on to relate her increased popularity during the days and weeks following the oral sex behavior at the beach. Her football hero obviously told some of his friends, and the word got around that she was willing to "go down on a guy."
"Not that I mind," she confessed. "After all, if it weren't for that, I'd never have any dates to dances and the big school affairs. Besides, I enjoy doing it-and it really isn't like I was having regular sexual intercourse with the guy."
The last two statements are obvious rationalizations. Homely girls appear at dances with as much regularity as attractive ones. Also, most of this girl's girl friends would regard mouth-genital contacts as much more intimate and forbidden than regular intercourse. Nevertheless, the case does illustrate one important motivation for sexual behavior of the teen-ager-the ever-present desire to be popular.
In larger cities, where the girls are more likely to be cosmopolitan and sophisticated about sexual matters, it is often not the girl who engages in oral sex but the one who does not who is in the minority. Thus, the rationalization takes the form of "everybody's doing it, so why not me?" And so she does, engaging in fellatio as whim and the situation dictate.
It is quite clear that, despite taboos against such behavior, today's teen-ager is physically and psychologically just as well equipped to engage in lovemaking with lips and tongue as are his parents.
CHAPTER FIVE: ORAL SEX AND PROSTITUTION
A great many men receive their first experience in oral sex from prostitutes, since fellatio is frequently utilized by the girls as a "warming-up technique" preliminary to actual sexual intercourse.
One middle-aged man, interviewed for this study, recalled that "the first time a girl ever sucked my cock, I was in the army. I was eighteen and never been kissed-at least down there. But to tell the truth I was practically a virgin, although I'd tried to change that status the night before I was to report to the induction center."
You see, I'd been going with this girl through high school, dating her regularly and pretty steady. On a date, we'd do some pretty heavy necking. I'd put my hand up under her sweater and feel her boobies and play with the nipples, and after awhile I'd reach under her skirt and panties and stick my finger in her pussy and masturbate her. Meanwhile, my cock was standing up like a little soldier, so she'd take it in her hand and play with it, jerking me off into her handkerchief.
It was a hell of a lot of fun, but I wanted to fuck her. I figured that was a pretty natural reaction and desire on my part, but she wouldn't do it. She said she wanted to save herself for when we were married, and she said that I wouldn't respect her if she gave in to me. I said as long as we were going to get married and have sex eventually anyway, why not now? I also assured her with great sincerity that I would respect her even more if she gave in to me now instead of waiting.
I thought I sounded pretty convincing, but I guess I was wrong. I even tried to get her so worked up she didn't know what she was doing, so I could pull off her panties, hop on top of her, and shove my cock up into her pussy-but no matter how excited she got, she always seemed to know what she was doing. So I had to be content with the petting-until the night before I was to leave for the army.
I think I deserve an Academy Award for the performance I put on that night in convincing her to give her all for her country. I told her I was going away to fight-for her and her family. I said I might not come back, or if I did, it might be as a cripple. I said all sorts of cornball things, but it got to her. Before I was through she had tears in her eyes and was begging me to fuck her.
It would've been nice if we'd tried it in a bed, but her folks were home and so were mine. Some of my friends told me it wasn't bad in the back seat of a car-a little cramped maybe, but better than nothing. So we told her folks we were going out for a hamburger and drove away. We passed a motel and I suggested that, but she was worried someone might see us go in or come out. I could see that she was already getting pretty upset about losing her virginity, so I didn't push my luck. I drove right up to a lovers' lane overlooking the city and parked.
We started out the same as always, with kissing and a little feeling outside her clothing. Then I unbuttoned her blouse and stuck my hand in under her bra and grabbed a handful of boobie. I massaged one and then the other, feeling her nipple push up hard against my palm. When I put my hand under her skirt and up between her legs, she opened wide for me so I could stick my finger inside her. But first I took hold of her panties and worked them down over her legs. I didn't want those in the way when I started in with the real thing. I'd never fucked a girl before, and I was frankly a little nervous about the whole thing, I mean about what to do and everything. Of course, I figured she hadn't had any experience either, so we were starting out even on that score.
Anyway, with her panties off and her legs spread I had me a fine time massaging her warm, wet pussy. She kept rubbing the outside of my pants, and after awhile, she unzipped my fly, reached in and took out my stiff cock. You can bet I was in the mood just about then, so I said let's go in the back seat. She nodded and scampered across the back of the seat and spread herself out. I opened the glove compartment and took out a pack of rubbers I'd had ready there for months, just in case. Then I went in back.
I wanted it to be very good for both of us, but I wondered if I'd have a hard time shoving my cock up in her pussy, I mean because she was a virgin. I'd heard that some girls bled a lot and suppose I hurt her and she hated me for it; and suppose my father discovered the blood in the back seat and gave me hell for it. Add to that the problem of not having enough room back there. Every time I got my cock even a little bit inside her, my leg slipped off the seat and I lost contact again. Besides, I'd never worn a rubber before, and I couldn't feel her flesh through it, which disappointed me.
I started to get frantic. She started getting annoyed. She kept asking me what was the matter, and why didn't I make love to her if that's what I wanted. I began sweating. And then I felt my cock getting limp!
Well, to make a long story short, I'd never get an Academy Award for my sexual performance that night. It was a complete disaster. You know that old saying about not being able to stuff a strand of wet spaghetti into a slot machine? That describes my condition just about then, and it wasn't funny. She wasn't laughing and I wasn't laughing either. I wanted to fuck her, I really did-but between the cramped quarters, the stupid rubber, her annoyance, the possibility of bloodstains and of hurting her, I had a lot of things on my mind.
She started crying and saying I didn't really love her. I told her I did, but that I'd decided she was right and should wait until we got married. It was a lot of crap, of course, but I had to save face in some way. When she calmed down, I drove her home and we kissed good night and promised to write each other often.
The next day I reported to the induction center, they ushered me on board a train, and I was taken to a nearby army camp for processing. I got a couple of letters from my girl friend during the week I was there, chatty little things telling me about the weather and so forth. Then I was on another train heading for the Midwest, where I was to take basic training. In the months that followed I got fewer and fewer letters from her, and one day I got the famous "Dear John" message from her. She'd met another guy, she was in love with him, and they were going to be married.
I thought of going out and getting drunk. Or better still, I'd go out and get myself fucked by some of the local talent. I was still a virgin. I guess now, in looking back on it, I was afraid I'd fail again when I was with a girl. So I went into town, and I had myself a few drinks in one of the bars to bolster my courage. I must've picked the right bar, because I was on my second drink when the girl appeared. She had long black hair, a thin, sexy face, a slim figure that she showed off very nicely in a tight-fitting dress cut low in the front and raised high above her knees. She sat on the bars tool beside me and leaned forward to give me a view of her boobies. I bought her a drink and then another, and we got pretty chummy. It wasn't long before her hand was on my leg and inching along toward my cock. She put her hand right on me there and asked me if I'd like to come up to her room? I nearly fell off the bars tool, but I gulped and nodded yes. She said it would cost twenty-five dollars, and I told her that was okay. Then she grabbed my arm and we went out of the bar.
Her room was in a hotel a few blocks away. As soon as we were inside with the door locked, she started to undress. It didn't take long, because she wasn't wearing anything under the dress. When she unzipped the zipper, the whole thing just slid down over her body to the floor. She was slim, but she had boobies like apples and nice curves all around. I must've been staring at her, because she laughed and asked me if I'd like her to undress me. I shrugged and told her, "Sure, why not?" in my most casual voice, trying to pretend I'd been visiting whores all my life.
She sat on the edge of the double bed and motioned for me to go over to her, I did, and she began taking my clothes off. I'd never been undressed by a girl before. I'd never been in the same room with a naked girl before. I'd never seen one up so close. There were a lot of things I hadn't done before, and it was all getting me pretty excited-especially when her hand kept brushing up against the front of me. By the time she'd pulled my army shorts off, my cock was standing up stiff and straight in front of me.
She didn't hesitate a bit, but she surprised me by reaching for my cheeks-on my ass, that I-and pulling me closer to her. Since she was sitting down and I was standing, this brought my cock right up in front of her face, which apparently was what she had in mind. She ran her fingers up under my balls and all along the side and top of my cock while she lowered her head close to me, all the while smacking her lips and wetting them with her tongue, like she was going to eat something very tasty.
I didn't have any doubts about what she was going to do, and automatically I pushed my hips in closer to her. My heart was pounding like crazy as I watched her tongue stick out and move closer and closer to the tip of my cock. A small drop of moisture was on the tip, directly on the hole, and the end of her little pink tongue touched it, ever so slightly, but it was enough to make my entire body shudder. She held me in one of her slim hands while her tongue licked the top of my cock and then the sides and back up over the top. Not even in my wettest, wildest dreams had I ever had an experience like that, a sensation so intense. I knew I wasn't going to last much longer the way things were going, but I didn't care. Then her mouth opened up wide, took the round part into her mouth, and her lips closed over it. I could feel her tongue working away from inside, massaging the tip, while her mouth sucked and pulled at me.
I could feel myself coming. I tried to hold back then, but it was too late. The girl sensed it, for she opened her lips again so I could shove my cock deep in her mouth. Her lips closed over the sides, holding tight, as I jerked it back and forth in her mouth until I came.
I wasn't sure then whether I was still a virgin or not. I'd had sex with a prostitute, but I'd shot my wad into her mouth instead of her pussy. In fact, I hadn't put my cock anyplace near her pussy. But I'd enjoyed it, there wasn't any doubt in my mind about that. I went back to camp that night feeling no pain.
For the next couple of days I thought about what had happened, and I knew I wanted it to happen again. I wanted the girl to suck on me, but I also wanted regular sex, too. Just thinking about it made me horny, and my cock got stiff and ready to go. The next weekend I got another pass and went into town to the same bar where I'd met the girl who'd given me such a good time. Well, maybe "given" wasn't exactly the right word. Twenty-five bucks was a lot of money, but I figured it was toward my education. Trouble was, the girl wasn't there. Finally, though, another one came over and gave me the same pitch. She was a blonde, a little on the plump side, wearing a dress too tight for her, maybe about thirty years old, not as pretty as the other girl. She told me to hurry up and make up my mind if I wanted to get laid or not, because she had to get home before her husband did and she had time for just one more trick. To tell the truth, I wasn't too crazy about her, but it looked like it was her or nobody. I'd been getting a stiff cock all week long just thinking about the good time I was going to have finally fucking a girl, so I told her okay.
We went to a nearby hotel, where I had to pay three dollars this time just to rent the room for the hour or so we'd use it. Then, when we were in the room, the girl took my money-it was only twenty dollars this time-and told me to get ready. She took off her dress and her girdle and stretched out on the bed with her legs spread. Lying down like that with her girdle off, she looked more like a fat girl than a plump one. I began to wonder if it was going to be worth it, when she glanced at her wristwatch and told me to hurry it up because she didn't have all night, I knew it wasn't going to be worth it, even if it was five dollars less. But she already had my money, and I figured it was a hell of a lot better than just jerking off, so I undressed and got on the bed beside her.
Right off the bat she reached out and grabbed my cock and worked it around in her hands. She had big floppy boobies that kept moving against my chest whenever she moved, and between those and her hands I got stiff in no time at all. Then she asked me how I wanted it, with her on top, or with me on top. I just stared at her and asked if she wasn't going to suck me off. She answered hell no, she didn't even do that to her husband; she said she might be a whore, but she did have some principles.
I didn't even try to figure that one out. All I knew was that I was disappointed. Sure, I'd been looking forward to the fucking, but I wanted my cock sucked, too. I offered her an extra five dollars if she'd do it for just a few minutes. I was already in twenty-five dollars' worth, so I figured what did an extra five matter.
She hesitated, then shook her head no. I had to do it the regular way. Well, by that time I was pretty pissed off with the whole thing. I'd lost whatever enthusiasm I'd started out with-and I'm afraid my cock lost some of its starch because of that. She climbed on top of me and tried to stick it in, but it was the old wet spaghetti in the slot machine routine all over again. Finally, she managed to stuff it up inside her pussy and I had an orgasm-but it wasn't really satisfying, like it had been the other time with the thin girl.
The next weekend I went back into town, determined to find the first girl. I went back to the same bar, but this time neither of the girls was there. I tried another bar and another. It was the fifth or sixth bar I went in where I hit pay dirt. She was sitting at one end of the bar nursing a drink when I walked in and sat down beside her. She didn't recognize me at first. I bought her a drink, and suddenly her eyes lit up with recognition, and she grinned and ran her hands over my lap. At the same time she wet her lips with her tongue, and I thought of how nice it would be if she took my cock in her hand and guided it past those red lips into her wet mouth.
She was available for the same price, so we left the bar and went up to her room. It was in another hotel this time; I guess she moved around a lot. She locked the door, took my money, and undressed. This time I undressed myself and lay down on the bed beside her. She didn't ask me what I wanted; I suppose she had a good idea from the last time. So she started in on me.
With one hand she massaged my cock and balls while she sucked on my nipples. I'd never heard of a girl doing that to a guy, always the other way around, but it felt very good, especially since her hand was busy on me. Then she kissed me all over my chest and down along my stomach. I felt goose bumps when her tongue leaped out and twirled around in my navel, and she laughed at my ticklishness.
Then she swung her body around so her head was facing the foot of the bed and started kissing the insides of my thighs, getting closer and closer to the spot that was her target. It was very stimulating, especially since in her new position I was staring right into her pussy. Her legs were spread wide, and I had a perfect view of her crotch. She had a lot of hair over it, and I guess she was pretty excited herself because her pussy was moist and seemed to throb, even as I looked at it.
We were situated just right for doing a sixty-nine, and I had a momentary urge to bend my head and kiss her between the legs, to stick out my tongue and lick her, maybe even plunge it deep inside. It was very exciting thinking about it, but I resisted the impulse. I knew that guys don't do that to prostitutes. After all, who knew how many cocks had been up inside her, squirting their stuff?
Just about that time her lips reached my balls, which she began kissing warmly. My cock was very stiff now, and throbbing like crazy. I was afraid I was going to shoot my wad, so I reached down, took her head and moved it up slightly. She took the hint and brought her mouth down over the tip of my cock, swallowing it in one gulp. Then she closed her lips tightly around me and raised her head so her mouth traveled the length of my cock all the way back up to the head. Then down again, and up again.
I was so excited I could hardly breathe. I started yelling, "Now. Come on, let's fuck now!" She reversed her position on the bed, spread her legs and pulled me over on top of her, reaching down between us to guide my cock right up into her hot pussy. Then her legs wrapped tightly behind my back and she began a rocking, thrusting motion against me, lifting her back in a fast rhythm to meet my own. I was almost gone by the time she started, so it didn't take much of that to make me come. I grunted, stiffened out, and my cock spurted fast and furious deep inside her.
I'd been too busy and too excited to remember the pack of rubbers I'd brought with me, but she didn't seem to mind. When we were through, she went into the bathroom and took a douche. When she came out, I asked her if I could see her the next weekend, and she said sure, why not. I'd had the time of my life with the girl, and I didn't want to have to break in someone new. My sad experience with the fat blonde had taught me some things about that.
The following weekend I met her at a new bar she told me about, and we went up to still another hotel room for a repeat performance of what had happened the previous week. I found it was getting easier to control my emotions while she sucked on me, so I could make the sensations last longer. There was another problem that was beginning to trouble me though-the money. On an army private's pay, I couldn't very well afford twenty bucks a week for sex, no matter how good the sex was. I didn't know how to tell her, but I finally managed to blurt it out. She smiled and said that as long as I was a good customer, she'd give me every fourth one free. I made some very witty comment about her starting a "Fuck-of-the-Month-Club," and we both laughed about that.
The next weekend I pulled K.P. and didn't make it into town. The week after that, I did, and by that time I was all hot and bothered. I'd had two wet dreams during the time I'd been away from her, both dreams about the girl going down on me. But I couldn't find her anywhere. I checked all the bars I knew she frequented and went to some of the hotels. Finally, I found a bartender who recognized her from my description. He told me she'd gotten busted-arrested, that meant-and had to leave town. He said he hadn't the least idea where she was now.
So there I was, high and dry, with a stiff cock and no place to shove it. Then I realized it wasn't strictly true. The girl wasn't the only female around who'd be willing to suck on me. And I was right about that. During the time I was in the army, I found lots of girls willing to do what I wanted, as long as I paid them to do it.
When I was discharged from the army and went back home, it was a different matter. I didn't know of any houses of prostitution or any call girls, and streetwalkers just didn't seem to be around. I renewed my acquaintance with some of the girls I'd known in high school and dated them, but the sexual going was very rough. After a few dates and a lot of money spent, generally the most I got was a fast feel of their boobies and maybe a little fingerfucking.
Then I met this college girl who had her own apartment and was willing to let me go all the way. We were busy petting on her couch and were feeling each other up pretty well when she suggested we'd be more comfortable in the bedroom. I agreed with her, and we went in and undressed in the dark and then got into the bed. I moved my hands all over her boobies and between her legs, and she reached out and stroked and massaged my stiff cock. I'd always heard that college girls were pretty liberal when it came to sex, so when we were on the bed I tried to force her head down on me. Not only didn't it work, it backfired. She leaped out of bed and started calling me every filthy name she could think of. She said there was nothing wrong with nice healthy sex, but I was a pervert for wanting her to do a disgusting thing like that.
Well, for a while there I thought I wasn't even going to get to fuck her. I managed to calm her down, though, and we started necking and petting again right there on the bed. During the argument my stiff cock had gone down; now, it came back, but it didn't seem as hard as before. I shoved it up her pussy just the same, we fucked, and I came after a while.
Later, I got to wondering why it hadn't been as much fun as it should've been and why I wasn't so hard and why it took me such a long time to have an orgasm. The answer seemed pretty obvious to me-I missed being sucked on. But my college girl friend wasn't going to be the one to do it.
We had sex after that quite often, but the regular kind. I finally got a line on a call girl, though, and went to see her. I was getting a regular piece often enough for me, so I let the call girl suck my cock until I came. It was just like old times, and I really enjoyed it. Sometimes when I was with my girl friend I pretended I was with the call girl and the pussy that gripped me was really a mouth. It took quite an imagination, but when it worked I felt a hell of a lot better.
From the foregoing account, it is apparent that a conditioning process was set up for the man. His initial experience at vaginal intercourse was unsatisfactory, while his first experience with oral sex was quite stimulating. Thereafter, all his memorable sexual encounters were preceded by the girl performing fellatio on him, so he subconsciously came to regard this activity as a necessary ingredient in his sexual relations, if they were to be brought to a wholly satisfactory conclusion.
The case history further illustrates another truth. The reason many men go to prostitutes is for some kind of activity not available to them elsewhere.
One call girl interviewed verified this to be the case within her experience. "Some men think it's dirty for a girl to suck on their pricks and they're afraid to ask their girl friends or wives to do it to them. That's why they come to us, to pay us for doing something they're ashamed to have done at home. A lot of them don't think it's right for a decent girl to do something like that."
We have dwelt so far in this chapter on the prostitute's role in performing fellation on her client. However, there are also cases in which a man goes to such a woman in order to perform cunnilingus on her. Various studies have shown that a man is seldom reluctant to admit that a prostitute took his penis in her mouth and gave him a "blow-job." There are few, however, who will admit that they returned the favor, that is, put their mouth on the prostitute's genitals. In our previous case history, the subject noted his inclination to do so while he was in a potential sixty-nine position-but he went on to loudly deny that he actually did perform cunnilingus on the girl.
Nevertheless, there are a substantial number of men who go to prostitutes to perform oral sex on them-merely because they enjoy it and are unable or unwilling to get it at home. There are others who have it available to them, but who want some variety in their oral sex lives.
"Sure I love my wife," one married man confided, "and our sex life together is great-especially the oral stuff. But every once in a while I start getting real horny for a taste of new pussy. Sure, maybe in time I could get somebody, perhaps one of the girls in the office, but it takes time and it's too complicated. So I go to a call girl, do some gobbling, pay her the money-and that's that. No fuss, no muss."
This is a simple, direct statement which is typical of the reasons men go to prostitutes-to satisfy an understandable sexual need. The situation, however, can become as complicated as the psychological makeup of the individual concerned, a fact we will consider at greater length in a later chapter.
CHAPTER SIX: HOMOSEXUALITY AND LESBIANISM
A long-standing psychological theory still in vogue states that there are the seeds of homosexuality in all of us, male and female, in varying degrees. Men and women, the theory goes on, are in reality bisexuals, with the inherent capabilities of giving and receiving pleasure to and from members of their own sex.
Sexual studies conducted by Kinsey and others have indicated the apparent truth of this theory. Sexual stimulation is both physical and psychological in nature. As far as oral sex is concerned, the male and female mouths do not differ anatomically; thus, if a person is not conditioned psychologically against responding sexually to the mouth of an individual of his or her own sex, there is no reason the person should not do so.
"Look," one man said, "I like girls, see? I like to screw them any chance I get. But I learned a long time ago that a stiff prick doesn't know one hot blow job from another!"
The man went on to relate how he'd been sucked into homosexual activities while serving a prison term for theft.
I'd been used to getting a piece of tail at least once a week, he said, and man, those first few weeks were rough. I think they used to put saltpeter in the coffee, but my prick got stiff just the same and there didn't seem to be anything to do but jerk off to get relief. Trouble was, there was another guy in the same cell with me. We slept in a set of bunk beds, with me on top, and there was a basin and a toilet over in one corner, so there wasn't much privacy. I had to wait until it was night and I was in my bunk. I took my prick in hand and massaged it, all the while thinking of some of the girls I'd known, most of them stretched out on a bed with legs spread and snatch just aching to be rammed into. It didn't take much for me to get hard. I kept working my prick back and forth in my fist and finally shot my wad into a piece of toilet paper.
Then I climbed down from the bunk, went over to the toilet and flushed it. When I looked back at the bunk, I noticed my cellmate was watching me. He yawned, turned over and ignored me then, but I wondered if he'd known I'd been jerking off. Why that should bother me, I didn't know, except it seemed a little childish for a grown man. But then what the hell else could a guy do without a girl?
You know, looking back on it, it does seem funny that even then I never even thought that maybe two guys could do something together. I remember when I was a kid we used to get together in somebody's cellar or garage and all jerk off, and once in a while maybe we'd pull on each others' pricks until we came-but that's as far as it went.
I discovered that in prison the guys went a lot further. My education started the next day when my cellmate started talking about sex and how he missed having a piece of tail. That got me into the conversation with something I could talk about, because I told him I was getting pretty hard up and things weren't going to get any better during the two years I was supposed to be in prison. Then he told me that a lot of the guys had to make do with each other. There wasn't anything queer about them, necessarily, he added hastily; it was just something that had to be done under the circumstances. He said some of the guys stuck their pricks up another guy's asshole, but most of them just sucked each other off.
And he asked me if I'd like him to do it for me!
I think if he'd just come out and said that first, I would've slugged the guy. But he'd done such a good job of conning me into thinking it was a perfectly normal thing for guys to do in prison when they couldn't get a woman; well, I thought it wouldn't do any harm to give it a try, especially since it was only a temporary measure. Besides, I thought, he would be the one doing the sucking.
That night, after the lights were turned out, I lay in my bunk thinking about what was going to happen. I'd had blow jobs before, of course, and I'd enjoyed them. A lot of times I had the girl do it to me before we got down to the regular fucking, but sometimes I came while my prick was in her mouth-and that wasn't exactly painful either. As I thought of this guy in the bunk below me sucking me off like that, I couldn't help but get a stiff prick, so I was all ready for him when he stood up in the darkness.
Standing, he had his face a little above my bunk so I didn't have to move. All I did was throw off the blanket and show him my prick standing up there like a flagpole. He ran his hands all over it for a while and then he licked his lips and lowered his head and began kissing me up between the legs and on the balls and then up and down the sides of the prick itself. You know that old saying that in the dark all cats are alike. Well, I couldn't tell the difference between this guy's mouth sucking and licking on me than I could any of the girls who'd done it. In fact, I could even pretend that it wasn't a guy at all, but some beautiful girl going to town on me.
Well, he had my whole prick in his mouth right up to the balls and he was bobbing his head up and down, sucking and chomping away, when I shot my wad. I could feel his throat move as he swallowed the stuff as it squirted out. When it was over, he grinned at me and asked how I'd liked it. I told him it was fine, which was true, but I got a little nervous thinking now maybe he'd want me to do it to him. But he didn't. He just told me pleasant dreams and went back to his bunk.
I didn't have any trouble getting to sleep that night. I was exhausted but happy.
The next night he did it again, and the night after that. Finally, he got around to-asking me if I'd do it to him. I hemmed and hawed, and he said he realized that it was something new to me and would take a little time getting used to, so he'd be patient. But he did ask me if I'd mind jerking him off while he sucked on me. I'd done that before when I was a kid, so it wasn't anything new to me. Besides, it seemed the least I could do. After all, I didn't want him to stop giving me blow jobs because I wouldn't do anything in return. But how could we do it at the same time, I asked him. In the sixty-nine position, he told me.
So that night I crawled into his bunk, with my head at the opposite end from him. My prick was right in front of his face, and his was right in front of mine. We started playing with each other, and before long we were both very hard. He was a little guy-in height, that is-but he made up for it in his prick, which was long and thick, even bigger than mine. I almost groaned aloud as his mouth covered the knob of my prick and sucked furiously on it. Then he opened his mouth wide, and I arched my hips and thrust my prick forward deep in his mouth. He kept sucking and tonguing me while I-moved in and out, in and out, building toward the orgasm that was sure to come.
Meanwhile, I had both my hands on his prick, fondling it, caressing it, pulling it one way and then another. The bunk was so narrow and we were moving around on it so much, I guess it was only natural that his balls and prick should come in contact with my face. Once or twice when I wet my lips, my tongue touched him there. Then suddenly the length of his prick was sliding against my lips, moving back and forth between them in a rhythm matching mine.
I'm not sure now whether I figured what the hell, why not-or if I was so overcome with emotion at what his mouth was doing to me that I didn't realize what was happening. Anyway, before I knew it, his prick was filling up my mouth, moving deep inside, swelling and throbbing against my teeth and tongue. I was hardly aware of it, though, because all my emotions seemed to be centered in his mouth, where my prick was swiftly rising to a peak.
I think we both shot off at about the same time.
When it was over, I wondered if I was going to hate myself in the morning. As it turned out, I didn't; which I was glad of. Spending two years in prison was bad enough without hating yourself every morning. But I looked at it this way-I enjoyed what he did to me, and he enjoyed what I did to him, even though I didn't get much of a kick out of sucking his prick like that. Apparently, the only pleasure most straight guys got was in having it done to them, and my doing it in return was just to pay him back and wasn't any worse than masturbating.
It was a good rationalization, considering the fact that the man had to spend time locked up, with no other sexual outlets available to him. He admitted that he had never known any homosexuals and thus had no preconceived opinion regarding them or their activities. Even so, it's interesting to note that he regarded at first the homosexual activity was on the part of the person mouthing the penis rather than the person whose penis was being mouthed. This a common belief on the part of many males who allow homosexuals to perform fellatio on them but have no desire or intention to perform it in return. They feel since they are the passive rather than the active participant, it is not really a homosexual act as far as they are concerned.
The subject of our current case history went beyond this, however, actively participating in the act by fellating his cellmate. However, even then he did not consider himself homosexual, but merely a sexually aroused male doing what seemed to be required under the particular circumstances. There is some precedence for this in the animal world. Consider for example the oft-seen instances of a male dog attempting to mount another male, holding onto the receiving dog's haunches and thrusting his erect penis forward to make contact.
In fact, the man went on, we even started having sex dog-fashion. Prick-sucking was okay, but it lacked variety, and I figured as long as I was going to be around for a while and I'd already tried some of their methods, I might as well go all the way.
I'd fucked a few girls from behind, so the idea was nothing new-but it'd been with my prick up inside her cunt. Obviously, my cellmate didn't have a cunt. But he had another hole. I didn't have any trouble getting into him from behind, because he'd been reamed out a lot of times before I got there. The other way around it was a bit painful for me, so most of the time he settled for having me suck on him until he came and then he'd turn over and bed down and spread his cheeks and I'd shove my stiff prick up into his asshole. It was a lot tighter than most girls I'd had, which made it even better from a physical point of view, and I found that if I squinted my eyes a little I could fool myself that I had a real live girl wiggling her ass up against me.
Obviously the man had not lost interest in females, despite his prison homosexual activities. When he was released from prison, he quickly renewed his sexual relationships with women and enjoyed them. Among these activities were mouth-genital contacts, which he also liked, but which for some reason didn't seem as good as he'd remembered them. He thought this was because his cellmate in the prison had more regular experience and was thus an expert in this form of lovemaking. He also discovered that there were homosexuals walking the streets looking for non-homosexuals who wanted "blow jobs." The man was quite willing to accommodate them, and he always enjoyed the experience, without any feelings of guilt or shame for having engaged in the act. He even admitted to returning the favor one time, but it was not compulsive but merely a whim of the moment.
This lack of shame or guilt is not typical. Few persons can grow to manhood without feeling the social pressures of homosexual taboos. Up to a certain point in a young boy's existence he is encouraged by society to play only with boys, for if he plays with girls he is considered a sissy. At a later stage in his social development he is expected to make a sudden reversal of attitude and make a concerted effort to go after the female of the species-in moderation, of course. In this later stage, he may show affection for the girls, such as handholding, kissing, putting an arm around her, whereas the same behavior with another boy will be looked on with horror.
The female of the species, however, has more leeway in this public display of affection. There is a constantly played scene on the streets where two women greeting each other do so with kisses and much hugging. Girls are frequently seen walking hand in hand or with their arms around each other, and no particular eyebrows are raised over the occurrence. On the more blatantly sexual side, it is probably significant that girls have what is euphemistically referred to as "pajama parties" but boys don't.
We had some real wild times, one girl recalled during an interview. Our parents were worried about us teen-agers doing anything sexy with boys, but they never even suspected we were doing sexy things with other girls. Of course, even we realized that there was no harm in what we were doing; still, we weren't about to tell anybody else about it.
There'd generally be about four or five of us. We'd be wearing pajamas or baby-doll nighties and we'd sit around on the bed and listen to some records and have sandwiches and talk about boys or other girls we knew and rake a few teachers over the coals. There was this one girl named Sara who was the one who turned us on sexually most of the time. She was a short, blonde girl with a sort of boyish figure, but still curved enough for anybody. She'd start telling us about some guy she'd gone but with and how he'd felt her up. She was always pretty specific, and sometimes she'd illustrate her story by holding her breasts or one of ours. "And then he'd stick his finger up here," she'd say, and move her finger up under her legs. Before she was through, she generally had most of us panting.
One time Sara came in with a dildo. I'd heard about them, but I'd never seen them before. She said a cousin of hers had gone down to Mexico and bought it and sent it to her as a gag. But Sara was using it as more than a gag. It looked just like a man's penis in a state of erection. It was made of some sort of plastic or rubber, and you could fill it up with warm water or milk and stick it up inside you to masturbate, if that's the right word in this case, and when you were ready to come you'd just squeeze the testicles so that the warm fluid could shoot out inside you. There were even some straps on it, and naively enough, I thought these were to hang it up in the closet to dry out when you weren't using it.
Needless to say, we all wanted to try it out. Sara said, sure, but she wanted me to try it first. She went into the adjoining bathroom and filled it up with warm water. When she came out, I discovered what the straps were really for. Sara had the artificial penis strapped to her front, and with her slim body she looked very much like a boy. We all laughed as she paraded around, with her dildo flopping up and down and looking like the real thing.
She put on a phony bass voice and said to me, "Okay girl, prepare to get screwed!"
I was willing to go along with the gag. I was actually a virgin then, although my hymen had been punctured by a banana I'd used to masturbate with, so I wasn't afraid of losing anything. I took off my clothes and flopped on my back and spread my legs for her. Sara, looking very serious, got on the bed and poised herself over me. She lowered herself gently between my legs, and together we guided it inside my vagina. Like I said, I'd never had a boy before, but this felt very good, much better than masturbating. Sara played with my breasts just as a boy would, until the nipples got hard and stood up very stiffly and the flesh ached with growing passion. I warned her that I was coming, and at the same time she reached down and squeezed the artificial testicles so the warm liquid could shoot inside me.
It was fun. Up until then all we'd done was maybe rub each other's breasts or masturbate each other or wrestle around so our pubic areas touched and rubbed together. Now, two of the other girls took our places on the bed, and I watched them go at it, feeling very excited all over again. When they were through, Sara turned to me and said, "How about us sixty-nining it?" I wasn't too sure of that, but the other girls urged us on, so when Sara had strapped the refilled dildo on her again, we got into the right position on the bed, lying on our sides. I took the fake penis in my mouth and started sucking on it, surprised at how flesh-like it tasted to my mouth and tongue. Then I almost jumped off the bed as I felt Sara's tongue licking my genitals. I'd completely forgotten that while I had an artificial one to put in my mouth, she had the real thing!
Sara was going at it with more enthusiasm than I was, and she really seemed to enjoy doing it. I'll admit that I certainly enjoyed it. She kissed me all over the insides of my thighs, parted the outer lips with her teeth, and stuck her tongue deep inside me to massage my clitoris. I'd heard of some of the other girls doing things like this, but this was the first time it had happened to me. And I liked it.
When I looked up, I saw that the other two girls had gotten so excited watching us that they'd stretched out on the bed beside us, also in the sixty-nine position, and were going at it hot and heavy, but without the dildo, of course. Sara came up for air, saw what was happening with the two girls and unstrapped the artificial penis from her. She said something about not needing that anymore and tossed it on the floor, out of the way. Then she put her head between my legs and started in again. Which left me with somewhat of a problem, since I no longer had an artificial penis to suck on. However, I did have something else, and obviously that's what Sara had in mind when she took away that other plaything.
Well, she was doing it to me, I thought, and the other two girls were doing it to each other, and there was Sara's genitals right under my noseliterally--so I moved my head into her crotch and started doing to her what she'd been doing to me. I didn't think there was anything wrong with doing it, and I didn't any of the other times a girl and I did it. It was fun, it was exciting, and it was a hell of a lot better than just plain old masturbating. Of course, I still liked boys; it wasn't as though I was turning queer or anything like that. But I was afraid if I let a boy go too far, I'd get pregnant or a bad reputation or my parents would find out about it. A lot of times I'd double-date with one of the girls, and if the boys got us real worked up sexually, one of us girls'd stay at the other girl's house overnight and we'd go down on each other to relieve the cramps that were building up.
Later, when I was old enough to date on my own and knew enough to take precautions, I just had sex with boys, because I didn't have to do it with girls anymore.
Now that I'm married, I still see some of the girls I knew back then. We have hen parties that are off limits to our husbands. Nothing sexual goes on there, of course. I'm perfectly happy having sex with my husband. Of course I do remember the good times I had at those pajama parties, and every once in a while I wonder if it wouldn't be kicks to do something like that again just for old times' sakes. I might even mention it at our next meeting. We could play a few games much more interesting than bridge or canasta!
The astute reader will easily note the lack of shame or guilt evident in the girl's testimony. She regarded her lesbian activities as a temporary expedient, a replacement for boys, and thought of it as quite harmless-which, of course, it was. The chief danger to the individual in many of these cases is psychological. Clinical studies have shown that one stimulation and orgasm is very much like another in effect, regardless of the stimulating method, whether it be penis, dildo, finger, male tongue, female tongue, etc.
Of course, as we have already pointed out, our society is much more permissive when it comes to affection between females. Accounts of homosexual arrests appear to be predominantly male, while the females are left more or less to themselves. Perhaps in large part it is this permissiveness which leads to the more casual atmosphere surrounding lesbian activities, even with a woman who is not normally homosexual.
One such woman interviewed for our study told how her husband impelled her into the arms of a lesbian neighbor.
I love him most of the time, she said, but every once in a while I find myself hating the guy. Oh, I suppose it's not his fault, but when he makes love to me all he seems to care about is enjoying himself. He fools around with my breasts, sticks his finger up inside me and rubs my clitoris until I'm ready to climb the walls. Naturally, I rub his penis, which stands up stiff very quickly.
Then he throws himself between my legs, rams his penis in, shoots off-and that's that.
He doesn't care about my feelings at all. There he's got me flying high, with no place to land. Whenever I suggest maybe we could do it again, he just points to his limp penis, yawns, and says that both of them are tired. Then he kisses me and rolls over and goes to sleep.
I don't suppose he's being intentionally cruel, but that doesn't do me any good. Most times while he's snoring, I go into the bathroom with an electric vibrator and use it to masturbate several times. It's better than nothing.
Sure I know some guys can't get stiff again very soon, but there are other ways. Like orally, for example. I thought maybe he could stick his tongue up inside me and make me come. When I suggested it and even showed him a marriage manual that said it was okay to do, he didn't seem particularly enthusiastic about it. But he tried it-at least for a while. I started getting very excited, but my excitement was dampened by the obvious fact that he didn't like what he was doing. He didn't say so, but I thought maybe the idea was distasteful to him. I'd washed down there and put on a deodorant, but maybe I smelled funny or tasted strange. I didn't want him to be repelled, so I made him stop. He seemed very relieved by that, and I determined never to ask him to do that again-even though the few minutes had been quite stimulating and pleasurable to me.
It was the morning after we'd had sex his way that I met Sylvia. He'd gotten the urge late at night and he took it out on me, grunted, rolled over and went to sleep. It was too late to go masturbate, and the next morning I had cramps. When he went to work, I smiled and kissed him and pretended nothing was the matter, but when he left I just sat down on the couch and started crying in anger and frustration.
It was a warm summer day, and I'd left the front door open, though the screen door was closed. Suddenly I became aware that a figure was standing in the doorway. The screen door opened, and the woman came in. She said she didn't mean to intrude but she was on her way to the mailbox when she heard me crying, and was there anything she could do? I brushed back my tears and told her I wished there were something she could do. I recognized her, though I didn't know her very well. Her name was Sylvia, and she was a slim redheaded divorcee who lived in a small apartment in back of the building. Up until then we'd only nodded and said hello when we passed each other.
She came in and sat down on the couch beside me and put her arms around me and said "There, there," in a husky soothing voice. I hadn't intended to tell her anything, but somehow it felt very good to have a sympathetic shoulder to cry on, to feel a soft, gentle arm around me, and I began blurting out things I wouldn't have told anybody, not even a relative, milch less a stranger. I told her about my husband, and how unsatisfied I always was even after we made love.
Sylvia hugged me and kissed the tears from my cheeks. She said she knew how I felt, because she'd had the same problem with her husband. She said a man doesn't know how to make love to a woman, because he can't understand how a woman feels.
She was a rather pretty woman, with short cropped red hair and her slim figure encased in a blouse and shorts. I hadn't realized until then that I was wearing only my baby-doll nightie, which you could see right through. Her breathing was ragged as she pressed her lips against my throat and her hand moved under my nightie and massaged one of my breasts. I think even then I didn't realize what was happening-or I didn't want to face up to it. I only knew that it was so very nice being with someone who was gentle and understanding and considerate, and the touch of her soft lips and hands on me was wonderful.
Then Sylvia kissed me full on the mouth, and her tongue worked between my lips and went inside and explored all around. I began to get very excited, and my nipple erected and pressed against the palm of her hand. She smiled, lifted my nightie and pressed her lips against the nipple and sucked on it, while her hand now moved between my legs.
I remember I felt a shudder flow through me. A small, calm part of my mind said that this wasn't right, but I ignored it. After all, Sylvia was another woman, so I wasn't being untrue to my husband. Besides, my cramps were quickly dissipating in favor of another sensation. So I let my legs fall apart to let her hand reach up between them to cover the hairy moist region that was starting to pulsate in anticipation of her touch.
She kissed one erect nipple, then moved to the other, while her hand and fingers massaged my genitals, moving in and out of the slippery warmth with swift, sure strokes that built me to a swift orgasm.
But she wasn't through with me even then. The spasm had hardly subsided when she gently pushed me back on the couch, knelt on the floor and held my legs apart while she rained wet passionate kisses all along the insides of my thighs. Then her tongue leaped out and licked the outer lips of my genitals, and I nearly fell right off the couch in my excitement. She spread the lips with her fingers and stuck her tongue up inside to stroke my clitoris with it. I could feel my clitoris standing up, throbbing to meet her tongue. Her lips sucked at the opening and then blew hotly at me. I felt electric shocks shoot through me all over, a cold sweat broke on my body, my heart was pounding so loud I could hear it, and I had trouble catching my breath. I'd never known such sexual excitement as I was feeling just then.
Automatically, I started rolling my hips, lifting them to meet the experienced thrust of her very educated tongue as it moved in and out, touching my clitoris, massaging it. She had to hold onto my hips with both hands to keep her head in the right place. I reached down and held her short-cropped red hair in my hands to keep her there. I didn't want her to leave me, not now-not ever. But she wasn't about to leave. She seemed to be enjoying it as much as I did, the way she was moaning and sighing.
I had three more orgasms right in a row, and then I collapsed on the couch, whimpering, sighing, exhausted, but completely content. Then I noticed that the front door was still opened, so I quickly got up and went to shut it. When I turned back to the living room, I was surprised to see that Sylvia looked a little embarrassed. "I honestly didn't intend for that to happen," she told me, "but you looked so lovely there, so much in need of love, I couldn't help myself."
It was funny. I'd always thought of lesbians as mannish, ugly creatures-but Sylvia was very gentle and undoubtedly feminine. I was perfectly honest with her. I told her I was glad it had happened, because I'd needed something like that for a long time. I made her some coffee, and we sat on the couch and talked. She was a very nice person, and I genuinely liked her. She said she'd given up on men years ago and had no intention of going back to any of them.
Well, I still loved my husband, and I enjoyed having sex together, so I knew I wasn't going to change that. I knew also that I wasn't going to change his ways of lovemaking so he could satisfy me as well as himself. As a result, I came to a compromise which worked out very well. The morning after my husband and I had sex the regular way, I'd go over and see Sylvia-or she'd come see me-and we'd spend several hours in bed together, kissing, caressing, building up our passions without any hurry, having one orgasm after another. She puts her mouth on me and I put my mouth on her, sometimes alternately, sometimes at the same time.
This way everybody is happy. I don't feel I'm really cheating on my husband, since he's sexually satisfied by my body, and I'm not going to another man. In fact, I think that Sylvia's coming along when she did actually saved my marriage!
The woman and her newfound friend Sylvia performed other lesbian activities, of course, such as the rubbing of pubic areas against each other, and so forth-but the chief activity consisted of oral-genital contact. This is generally true of male homosexual behavior as well, and the reasons are fairly obvious. With one less opening for the male to put his erect penis in, and with one less thing for the lesbian to put in her partner's opening, it is only natural for the tongue and the mouth to become tools more frequently used in the pursuit of sexual pleasure.
In fact, many noted authorities have pointed out the potentials of the mouth area as a suitable erogenous zone for lovemaking. The late Dr. Kinsey believed that it could be nearly as significant for this purpose as the genitals themselves. What could be more natural then, for these two erogenous zones to be placed in contact with each other? Nevertheless, the act is still considered taboo-but especially so when two males engaged in this behavior.
One male currently undergoing psychiatric treatment told how he liked girls but couldn't seem to reach an orgasm except with another male.
His history was one of sexual failures. He was extremely stimulated by girls, but he was basically shy and very nervous around them. The first girl he went to bed with made him so shaken up and worried over his performance with her, he ejaculated before he even got an erection.
I thought maybe if I tried again in a little while, it would be okay, he said, but she was so irritated by my not getting up inside her that she made me nervous. I kept wondering, suppose I can't get another erection, what then.
Of course, he was unable to get another erection, not because he was physically incapable, but because he was so anxious about it. Anxiety over sexual matters is not conducive to a good physical performance.
Then next time I was with a girl, he went on, I kept remembering my failure with the last one-which didn't help any. I goofed it again.
And so on, with each failure helping to ensure the failure of the very next encounter with a girl. Finally, the man could not even attain an erection while in the presence of a girl. Disturbed by this apparent impotency, he consulted a urologist who examined him, discovered nothing physically wrong with him, and suggested that the trouble was undoubtedly psychological. During the interview, the doctor asked the man if he had any homosexual inclinations, and the subject quickly said no.
But I began to wonder if perhaps I did have, he said. I remember when I was a kid I used to masturbate a lot, sometimes in the company of other kids. I never touched any of their organs, but the sight of them always seemed to stimulate me. I thought of that as I went out of the urologist's office, and it bothered me.
A few nights later I went to a topless bar. I guess I just wanted to make sure a girl would turn me on. And it did. I sat there at the bar nursing a beer and watching this girl in nothing but a G-string bounce around, bumping and grinding-and damned if I didn't get a hard on. My organ was standing up like nobody's business. But I wondered whether, if I were alone with the girl, it would go limp on me like it always did.
I hardly noticed this guy who was sitting beside me until he started talking. The dancer had a habit of wetting her lips with her tongue and the guy nudged me, grinned and asked me how I'd like her to run her tongue over my pecker. I grinned back at him and told him just fine. Actually a girl had never done that to me before, but I'd heard about it, of course, and it did sound very stimulating.
A couple of minutes later he leaned toward me and whispered that he had some sexy films up at his place, with girls and guys going at it, and would I like to see them. Well, I was already pretty excited, and the idea of seeing actual sexual intercourse on films was very appealing just then. So I told him sure, I'd like to see them.
He didn't live too far away, so we walked over. He set up the projector and screen in the living room and told me to get a couple of beers from the refrigerator, which I did. Then we sat on the couch, and he turned out the lights and switched on the projector. I'd never seen any films like that before. It opened up with a girl in bra and panties giving herself a massage with an electric vibrator. At first she moved it over her shoulder and legs and then up along the inside of her thighs. Pretty soon she was moving it directly on her crotch over the panties; she had her eyes closed and was moving her hips around like she was having sex with the vibrator.
Then they cut to some young guy watching her from the doorway. The guy was pretty muscular, and he was wearing a T-shirt and Levi's that bulged out in front. A close-up followed of the bulge in the guy's Levi's, with his hand rubbing all over the front of it. Then his fingers pulled down the zipper, reached in and pulled out his erect sex organ. I think it was the biggest one I'd ever seen, long and thick and hairy. He had it in his fist and was pulling on it back and forth.
The girl looked up and saw the guy and smiled and held out her arms to him. He went toward her, and she fell on her knees and held his sex organ in her hands and began kissing the top of it. There was a close-up then of the guy's organ and the girl's face as her tongue went out and licked the knob on the guy's sex organ all over.
The man beside me on the couch-he said his name was Ben-said, "This is the part that always gets me excited. I hope you don't mind if I play with myself." How could I mind? It was his apartment, his films-and his sex organ. Before I could say anything, he'd taken his organ out and was fondling it.
I turned my full attention to the film. The girl had the guy's organ right in her mouth, her cheeks bulging, sucking on it for all she was worth. My own organ was standing up stiff and hard, and I felt the urge to take it out and masturbate. I glanced over at Ben and saw that he wasn't in the least embarrassed by what he was doing. His slim white sex organ was in his fist and he was working it back and forth. So what the hell, I thought, remembering that I'd masturbated in front of other boys when I was a kid-and I took it out and began pulling on it.
Watching what was happening on the screen, I got very excited. Maybe that was the answer, I thought; maybe if a girl went down on me, put my organ in her mouth and sucked on it....
"Put your hand out of the way," I heard someone say, and Ben pushed my hand away and put his head down in my lap. I was too surprised to resist. Then I felt his hot breath on the tip of my sex organ, felt his tongue reach out and lick the knob. When his mouth opened up and swallowed me, I knew I wasn't going to stop him from doing what he wanted to do. I just leaned back and watched the girl sucking the guy's organ on the screen while Ben's head bobbed up and down on me and I raised my hips from time to time, thrusting my organ deeper into his mouth.
Finally, I came big and strong, and he swallowed all the stuff that squirted into his mouth. Then he sat up with a big grin on his face and looked at the screen again and continued to masturbate. I hadn't noticed but the actors were different now. There were three guys in a bedroom. Two were standing, one behind the other shoving his organ into one guy's rear end. The one receiving it was bending over, his face in the lap of another guy sitting down with his sex organ moving in and out of the other guy's mouth.
I glanced over at Ben and became aware that this scene was getting him more excited than the first one with the girl and the guy. I looked down at his erect sex organ and wondered what it would be like to take it in my mouth, to feel it slide deep inside, to taste it, lick it, kiss it, suck on it. As I watched, wondering this, I saw his organ jerk, stiffen out even more and then spurt white liquid into a Kleenex he had handy.
And I felt guilty. Here I'd let a homosexual suck on my organ, and I'd even had thoughts about doing it to him! I remembered the doctor asking me if I'd had any homosexual tendencies, and I was ashamed now that I knew I had.
Anyway, I got out of there as fast as I could. Ben wanted me to stay for another drink and to see some other films he had, but I mumbled some excuse and left. I felt terrible, even though I told myself that I hadn't done anything. Ben had seduced me. He'd gotten me all hot and bothered with that film and then he'd taken advantage of me. The horrible thing, though, was that I'd enjoyed itI knew it was a man doing it to me, but I'd enjoyed it just the same.
One thing was sure, and that was I wasn't going to do that again. I decided I wasn't going to see Ben, no matter how hard up I got.
To this writing, the subject has kept to his decision. Since that homosexual encounter he has gone to various call girls, who have performed fellatio on him. He reports wryly, however, that he can get much stiffer much sooner if he pretends that it is Ben sucking on him rather than the girl. Also, when he sucks on the girl's breasts, sometimes he can't help but imagine that he has Ben's long white penis in his mouth. The thoughts have become compulsive, and although he enjoyed the experience, the familiar feelings of shame and guilt are present.
"I even dream about it," he said, "except in my dreams it's the real thing-a male sex organ moving in and out of my mouth. When I wake up in the morning, I've got this funny taste that all the mouthwash in the world can't seem to get rid of."
Obviously, the man has made an adjustment which is sexually satisfactory but which is giving him many psychological problems. It is ironic that he cannot enjoy heterosexual activities without fantasizing along homosexual lines. It is hoped that his psychiatric sessions will be helpful in setting a sexual pattern for him which will be acceptable at all levels. A "stiff prick" may not have a conscience, but its owner frequently does.
CHAPTER SEVEN: ORAL SEX AFTER FORTY
The most dramatic outward sign of sexual stimulation in the human male is the response of his penis. From a state of repose, it thickens, lengthens, stiffens, and rises at a severe angle from the body. At puberty, the sex organ does this quickly and with great frequency, and once an ejaculation takes place, the refractory period is comparatively short, and he is generally able to have another erection before too much time has elapsed.
Even during his prime, all these factors vary from individual to individual. Beyond forty years of age, it varies also-with some men impotent while others of seventy or more still with "lead in their pencil," as some sexual poets put it. As a generality, however, advancing age causes a corresponding decrease in male virility. In Kinsey's sampling, for example, a fifty-year-old man's sexual activities are fifty percent of those that occurred when he was twenty years old.
With females, the situation is somewhat different. The sexual burden must be carried by the man, and successful vaginal intercourse incidence rises or falls as his penis rises or falls. The woman is there merely to supply the opening in which to thrust the male sex organ, and it is of little importance, as far as the act itself is concerned, whether or not her clitoris stiffens, she has an orgasm, or really any feeling at all regarding the matter.
However, with advancing age, there may be a loosening of the genital muscles, a widening of the vagina due to the bearing of children, and women may find themselves unable to grip the male penis within them sufficiently to cause adequate friction, especially when the woman becomes moist and slippery in that area.
I used to be able to make a fellow scream, one middle-aged woman sighed reminiscently, just by tightening my vagina. I used to have great control. When his penis was up inside me I'd make the walls close in and grip him so tightly he couldn't get out if he wanted to. Not that he wanted to, of course. Sometimes he didn't do a thing, and I'd make him come just by tightening and releasing, tightening and releasing. It didn't take too much of that to make him shoot his wad.
However, during succeeding years the woman married and had several children. Her vagina muscles relaxed to the extent that she could no longer control them. She enjoyed sex, but she discovered that her husband was not fully satisfied with their relations.
When we started off it wasn't too bad, she said, but as I got more and more lubricated, he kept slipping around in there. It was pretty embarrassing for me, and he was reluctant to tell me what the problem Was. He's still a pretty virile guy, and I didn't want him to go to some younger chick who's nice and tight down there.
Then I got the idea of the oral thing. I'd never been much for sucking on a guy's penis. I didn't mind, really, but I never got much of a charge out of it either. But I started thinking that my mouth was one opening that I could control. Just by pressing my lips together I could make it tighter for my husband. Anyway, it was worth a try.
The first night, I guess I sort of surprised him with it. We were in bed fooling around. He was playing with my breasts, and I was fondling his penis and feeling it get hard in my hands. He was in the mood to hop on top of me, but I told him to wait, that I wanted to try something we hadn't done in a long time. Then I slid down on the bed beside him and took his stiff penis in my mouth. He was a little startled, but I could tell he was pleased. I worked it around in my mouth, flicking my tongue all over the tip. He was getting more excited than he'd been in quite a while-and funny, but so was I. I reached down between my legs, stuck a finger on my clitoris and nudged it into life and had myself a rollicking orgasm very quickly. He was bucking and thrashing around, and I knew he was ready to come. I pulled my mouth up over him, keeping the lips very tight around the shaft of his penis. Then I scrambled up on top of him, with my legs kneeling astride his body, and lowered myself over his stiff penis. All it took was a little wiggling around to send him shooting over the top.
As the woman pointed out, there is no particular physical sensation, per se, for the fellator during oral sex. However, the psychological factor can be very significant in helping to produce the desired physiological responses required for satisfactory sexual communication.
My husband was so thrilled that we'd renewed our mouth-genital contacts, the woman went on, that he wanted to do me the same way. I was a little bothered at first. After all, his tongue was much smaller than his penis, and I was afraid it would get lost in my big cavern of flesh. But that wasn't the case. He knew just what to do, where to look-and his tongue reached out and touched, licked, and massaged my clitoris right on the button. Within thirty seconds I had another orgasm and it was wonderful.
She went on to report that her sexual relations, and even her nonsexual relations with her husband, improved once she applied oral sex techniques to the lovemaking.
Most times now we do it together, she said, in some variations of the sixty-nine position. That way we can please and be pleased without any break in the proceedings. Sometimes we just build ourselves up to a point where we're about to let go and then finish it off in the regular way. Other times we just keep on going and do it orally all the way. Either way, it's the greatest!
As we have previously mentioned, it is especially critical with men when the spirit is willing but the male erectile flesh is weak. A man may attempt aphrodisiacs, vitamin and hormone injections, but often all he needs is variety in the sex act; perhaps a form of sexual behavior to which he is not accustomed will bolster his sagging flesh.
I never did have much of a sex life, one middle-aged man recalled sadly. I was always the shy, studious one. I liked girls, sure, but I was never comfortable around them, never sure of what to say. I was lucky to get a good-night kiss on a date, let alone have sex with them.
When I graduated from college, I was a virgin. Sure, I lied to the other fellows; I didn't want them to think I was sexually retarded. Even so, I think they suspected. One night they decided to get me laid. I didn't know it at the time, but I guess I should've been suspicious when we all went out stag and they kept pouring drinks in me.
We were only about an hour's drive from the Mexican border, and somebody suggested we go down there to the little border town on the other side, where we could have some fun. By that time I was feeling no pain, so a bunch of us piled into somebody's car and off we drove. An hour later we crossed the border and were driving along the main drag looking for a parking spot.
The main street was filled with souvenir shops and nightclubs. Loud rock music came from the clubs, and in front of each of them a Mexican tried to lure us inside with promises of girls who showed everything. It was a good lure. We went inside the nearest one and made our way through the noisy, smoke-filled room to a vacant table near an elevated platform, behind which a three-piece band was playing loudly but inexpertly. We ordered beers all around and then looked up as one of the band members loudly announced over a squawky microphone that the next dancer would be Conchita.
Conchita came out. She was very young, maybe about sixteen, with dark hair and eyes and an olive complexion, and a very bored look on her face. She wore a pair of white panties that were so thin you could see right through them, and a halter for her firm breasts with holes cut out of the ends so the nipples stuck out. She danced around for a while. The movements were all there, but she didn't seem to have her heart in what she was doing. After awhile, she unsnapped the bra, threw it aside and wiggled her breasts around. Naked and unrestrained, they were like large apples. She danced around some more, pausing from time to time at the edge of the platform to lean over a table and dangle her breasts above the heads of the customers. Hands reached up to feel the breasts, to twiddle the stiffening nipples. Once or twice some fellow would stand up to kiss her breasts or even suck on the tips. Then Conchita would dance away, her lips starting to curl in a trace of a smile.
She didn't stop at our table-at least not just then. Every once in a while she'd glance in our direction, though. I imagined that she was casting her sultry glances at me-though I know she wasn't-and I felt very warm. I even started to get sexually excited.
Conchita continued dancing around. Finally, amidst cheers from her audience, she hooked her fingers in her wispy panties and pulled them down over her slim legs. Naked now, she moved around the small platform in time to the music, twisting her hips, thrusting out her patch of pubic hair. As she moved over to one of the tables, a sailor leaped to his feet, stuck out his tongue at her and wiggled it. She laughed then, nodded, and moved closer to him, so he could grab her hips and pull her pubic patch into his face. He nuzzled her, flicked his tongue out into the area between her legs while she giggled.
After a moment, she pushed him away and danced away. She caught my eye and headed over to our table, where she paused directly beside me. I had to look up to see her, but the sight was rewarding. She was leaning back, so I saw the underside of her young breasts and their jutting nipples. But it was lower than that where my attention was focused. She had her legs spread and was moving her pubic area suggestively in my direction.
Over the loudspeaker, someone said, "Conchita will not serve a box lunch," and everybody roared while I blushed. I felt someone pushing me and saying "Go on, don't be chicken. Have a free snack on the house!"
I couldn't back out-not in front of all the fellows. Shakily, I got to my feet as the girl edged closer to me. I wet my lips and moved closer to her, my eyes focusing on her wiry black hair just under my nose, seeing every strand with crystal clarity. There was a pounding in my ears, which drowned out the band and the shouts of encouragement. I touched her hips with both hands to steady myself and thrust my head forward. Her pubic hair brushed my nostrils. It was strangely soft and scented with a delicate perfume. It smelled moist and intoxicating. I pushed my tongue through the matted tangle of her hair and touched her warm, pulsating genitals.
Then she laughed and danced away from me. I sat down, and one of the fellows asked me how it tasted, and I grinned like a man of the world and told him it was like taco sauce, which got a big laugh.
Anyway, we kept drinking beer and watching the girl dance. Finally, she stopped dancing. A moment later, another girl came on-I've forgotten her name. She was older, probably around thirty and looked like she'd had a rough life. Meanwhile, the former dancer, Conchita came out of the dressing room in back, fully dressed, and surprised me by sitting down at my table. She asked me if I would buy her a drink, and I said sure, and she said let's sit over in one of the booths where we could be alone.
I got up, she took my hand and guided me over to one of the dark booths lining the wall. I hadn't realized I'd had so much to drink, but I found I couldn't navigate very well. I slid into the seat first, and she came in after me, sitting so close I could feel her warm thighs pressing on mine. When the waiter came over, I ordered a beer for me and she ordered a tequila-tea, probably-for herself.
Then she snuggled up close to me and ran her hand over my leg, with her fingers just brushing my stiff penis. She asked me if I liked her, and I told her honestly that I thought she was quite pretty. I nearly jumped off the seat when she reached out and grabbed my penis through the cloth. She asked me if I'd like to come to her room later. Sure, I was in the mood, but I'd heard of con games where you gave a girl some money or bought a bottle of booze, and she never showed up. I told her that I wouldn't be in town later, and maybe we could go someplace now. She looked sad and told me she had to stay at the club, because she bad to dance in a little while.
I didn't mind buying her the drink or spending the time with her. It was worth it, because her slim hand was still feeling my erect penis-something no girl had done before, I might add. Then she smiled and said that for five dollars she'd give me a blow job right here in the booth. I just stared at her, wondering if I'd heard right. She repeated it. I looked around. It was dark enough where we were, with the only lights illuminating the stage, where the older girl was busy waving her pendulous breasts and bushy genitals at the customers.
I suddenly felt very wicked, very daring, and drunk enough to take a five-dollar bill out of my pocket and hand it to her. I was thinking, wait'll the fellows hear about this one. And then my attention was abruptly rechanneled as her fingers unzipped my fly and took my stiff penis in her hands. She massaged it for a moment, then expertly slid down under the table to kneel in front of me. I just saw the top of her dark head, but I could feel plenty. First her tongue went out and licked the top of my penis, then around the sides, then back up on the top again. She kissed and fondled it. Finally, her mouth opened wide and took the bulb between her lips, and she began sucking on that. She didn't even have to put it in any farther, because I was so excited I was ready to let go.
And let go is just what I did. She moved her mouth to the side of my penis and kept nibbling on it while I spurted into something she held in her hand. I sighed and closed my eyes and enjoyed the orgasm very much. Then she got up, said she had to go get ready for her dance, and left. She placed her glass of "tequila" on the table, and I saw that it was the object I had had an orgasm in. At least, I thought foolishly, it had served a useful purpose.
The man went on to relate that this experience was the high point in his sexual life, which continued at the same dull rate as before. He described how he went on to graduate school, where he met a girl whom he later married.
I'm not sure I loved her, he said, but I felt very close to her, especially since she was willing to put out for me regularly. By regularly, I mean maybe once a week. She wasn't any fireball in the sex department, either. We always had sex with me on top of her, going at it the regular way. I had the feeling she thought any variation was something perverted. Anyway, one day she told me she'd missed two of her periods and she was sure she was pregnant. Well, by that time I was twenty-seven years old and I had a teaching job at a local junior college, and I figured it was about time I got settled.
So we got married. It was a mistake, of course, but it wasn't my first and certainly not my last. She was pregnant, as it turned out, but during her third month she had a miscarriage. As early as that, I had these vague feelings that maybe I shouldn't have rushed into this, pregnancy or no, but by then it was easier just to keep going instead of trying to end the marriage right then and there.
We had sex maybe once or twice a week. I always wore rubbers to make sure there wouldn't be any accidents that would complicate matters. And always it was with me on top and her on the bottom, lying there like an old log. To tell the truth it got boring, but whenever I suggested a change of positions she said the way we were doing it was the natural way and I was a filthy-minded man for even thinking of any other.
Then I discovered she was meeting another man. I followed her one night to a motel and caught her there in bed with him. She just laughed and said it didn't matter, that she was going to divorce me and go with a real man. It was sort of funny. The real man, the one she'd been seeing, was one of the guys who'd taken me down to Mexico. I wished him luck, and I breathed a sigh of relief that I'd gotten off the hook as easily and as painlessly as I did.
So then I was a bachelor again. But I wasn't as young as I used to be. In my mid-thirties, I'd lost a lot of hair and what I had was turning gray. Most of the women I knew who were my age didn't really appeal to me. They seemed to be looking for husbands, in desperation for the first time, or to replace one that had died or flown the coop. So I decided I was just out of the market for love, marriage-and even, to a large extent, sex. I masturbated once in a while but managed to sublimate my drive with a heavy program leading to my Ph.D. I got the degree and then took a job teaching English at a girl's college in the Midwest.
That's when I started thinking young thoughts again. In every class there were about thirty girls from eighteen to twenty years old, most of them wearing miniskirts and pointing their luscious legs in my direction. I did my best to fight down the lascivious thoughts that came to mind, and there were even times I succeeded, despite the restless stirrings of my penis in my lap.
But there was this one girl in particular-her name was Janice-who kept wearing low-cut blouses and bending over a lot when she knew I was looking. She'd also wear short skirts and manage to have her legs spread apart quite frequently so I could see right up along her golden thighs into her pantied crotch. She was a pretty girl, with long black hair, a supple figure-and very dumb when it came to passing English tests.
Sometimes she'd stay a few minutes after class and bend over and rub up against me while I sat there trying to explain something to her. I guess it wasn't really too much of a surprise when she showed up at my apartment late at night and asked if I could go over a few things with her. I had a good idea what things she wanted me to go over, but we went through the formality of sitting on the couch and talking over some of her difficulties.
Finally, she got tired of beating around the bush. She told me that she just had to get a good grade in English, that if she didn't her mother might take her out of school and make her get a job. She said she'd do practically anything to pass the course-at which point she looked me sincerely in the eye, and just as sincerely put her hand over the outside of my pants in front. I'd half expected the move, but I was still surprised. I remembered that a long time ago another dark-haired girl had done that in a Mexican nightclub, and my penis gave a little jump of remembrance.
Since Janice had made the first move, I made the second. I put my hand into her low-cut blouse and cupped her naked breast. She had thoughtfully left her bra at home. I wondered what else she'd left at home. I found the answer to that when I lifted her skirt and saw a dark mass of pubic hair staring back at me. She moaned and wiggled around on the couch and busied her fingers unzipping my fly and taking out my penis and then fondling it with both hands.
Needless to say, an instructor is not supposed to fool around with one of the girl students. I know it was wrong, but I hadn't had a woman in such a long time I'd forgotten how it felt. Besides, she was asking for it in a loud clear voice, and I decided I'd be out of my mind not to take advantage of the situation. Then I remembered I didn't have any rubbers in the apartment. It would be a hell of a mess if the girl got pregnant.
Not that there was much chance of that, it seemed. Despite the fact that she was rolling my penis around in her fingers, I was still pretty limp. "I-uh-seem to be having technical difficulties," I told her, trying to make a joke out of it. She didn't laugh. I think she was visualizing an A on her report card for English that semester. Anyway, she said, "I'll help you," and she slid off the couch to her knees in front of me and took my penis in her mouth and began sucking on it.
I'd forgotten how great that was, but I began remembering. My penis began remembering, too, apparently, because it stiffened out inside her mouth and got big and fat as she chomped enthusiastically on it. I settled back on the couch and ran my fingers through her hair as her head bobbed in my lap.
Once, she lifted her head and asked me if I wanted to "screw," but I told her just to go ahead, she was doing just fine. So she kept on sucking, moving her mouth up and down on me, swiping at the sides of my stiff penis with her tongue. Finally, I felt myself coming. She tried to move her head away, but I held it there so she couldn't, until the last spasm had finished and I collapsed.
Then I said, "Congratulations, Janice, you've just earned yourself a B-plus in English." She stared at me and said, "Only a B-plus." I said, "I'll make it an A if you let me do something to you." I was busy remembering something else I'd gotten a charge out of down in Mexico. Her "All right" was a bit hesitant, but she smiled as I settled her onto the couch and put my head up between her legs.
It was the second time I'd ever done that, and the first time I'd ever done it so thoroughly. I nuzzled her pubic hair, inhaling the fragrance. It wasn't perfumed as the Mexican girl's had been. Janice's smelled of warm, moist woman, and I found the smell excited me very much. She quivered as I planted a wet kiss right squarely between her legs. She whimpered as I spread her outer labia with my fingers and stuck my tongue deep inside the folds of flesh. She moaned and rolled her head from one side to the other and flailed her legs as my tongue wiggled around and flicked over her clitoris which rose up to meet it.
She started jerking spasmodically in the throes of an orgasm, and I was suddenly surprised to discover that my penis was standing up stiff and straight. I was too excited to even think straight. I raised up and climbed on top of her writhing body on the couch and rammed my penis right up inside her. Her arms and legs wrapped around my back, and she kept raising her hips and gyrating them in answer to my quick thrusts. I came again in a series of deep spasms that left me drained, exhausted-but very happy.
Until I remembered I hadn't used a rubber. I don't trunk I could've been so virile if we hadn't gone through the oral sex first-but I wasn't thinking about that, not just then. I was thinking, suppose the girl got pregnant, my career would be finished. I suggested that she go home right away and douche, but she just grinned and said that she was wearing a diaphragm. She said one of the other professors had suggested it and even bought it for her, since they were She stopped, startled, and looked sheepish at the sudden realization she was telling stories out of school. Apparently, the girl was going to be an honor student in all her courses that semester. As for me, I didn't feel so bad, knowing that I wasn't the only instructor at the college who was burning the midnight wick.
I promised Janice faithfully that I would give her an A in English. She thanked me and said that she'd thought at first I was a square, but that oral sex I'd given her was really something. She even asked me if she could come back from time to time for some more. She said she liked to suck on guys' penises, but most of them were young and got so excited they came right away so she couldn't do it very long. She said maybe next time we could sixty-nine it, because the way I stuck my tongue up inside her really turned her on.
I told her that I'd try to work her into my busy schedule. And somehow I managed to do that, several times during the semester.
The foregoing is not presented as a typical student-teacher relationship, nor is it considered the best way for a girl student to get good grades or a male teacher to give them to her. However, it does serve to illustrate the advantages of fellatio and cunnilingus, especially so in this case, since the man is over forty and has limited experience as well. The girl herself pointed up another advantage. Since the older man was longer in achieving orgasm, he lasted longer. He was, in a sense, her "all-day sucker," as she phrased it on a later occasion.
The instructor further noted during the interview that as a result of this experience with the girl, he was encouraged to attempt dates with other women closer to his age, heartened and fortified by the knowledge that if his penis failed him, he could always rely on his tongue to do the job.
CHAPTER EIGHT: ORAL SEX AND THE OFFICE
"If a girl wants to be my secretary," an advertising executive said with a big grin, "she has to be young, attractive, know how to type and take dictation, and be willing to suck my pecker!" The grin got wider as he added, "If I have to, I can even do without the typing and shorthand."
Despite the man's off-handed manner, there is much truth in his statement. Sex and business have gone hand in hand ever since they were invented. A man who goes to the office to work is thrown into constant proximity with one or several women who probably look a great deal better than his wife did that morning, yawning sleepily, in an old bathrobe, with her hair up in curlers. He may see his "office wife" more than his real one.
As for the woman who works, she always sees her boss and fellow workers on their best behavior, all dressed up, never in need of a shave or in old clothes used to wash the car. Since she represents a potential or current conquest to him, the man is generally much more attentive than her husband who, she feels, has taken her for granted. If the woman is not married, she is looking for a husband or is trying to get ahead in her chosen career, and thus is susceptible to various sexual whims which may occur.
And there is, of course, that lucky combination of man and woman who are co-workers, in love with each other, and also married to each other. One such couple, when assurred of anonymity, were quite candid in their comments regarding oral sex.
"There are times," the man said, "when we get the urge during the day and there just isn't the time or the room to do it, the regular way, I mean."
"With oral sex it's another matter," the wife chimed in. "You can do it on the spur of the moment, if need be."
The man chuckled. "I remember the first time we did it in the office. I'm the president of the firm, and my wife is my private secretary, so I've got a big office, with a big desk and a big couch."
"It was about ten in the morning," the wife recalled, "and I went in there to take dictation, and he started fooling around. You know, kissing me, feeling up my breasts, rubbing my rear end. I put my hand on the front of him and saw he was hard, so we decided to have a quickie right there on the couch." She sighed. "I suppose I should have just taken off my panties, but I like it so much when he sucks on my nipples, and it seemed like such a wicked thing to do there in the office that I took off my dress, my panties and my halter, leaving on my garter belt, stocking and high heels."
"She looks pretty damned sexy that way, too," the husband said admiringly. "I had my hand on my zipper, ready to take out my stiff cock and ram it into her sweet little snatch, when I heard some voices outside the door to the office. That's when I remembered two things: I'd called a staff meeting for ten o'clock; and I hadn't locked the door."
"There wasn't time for me to get dressed," the wife said, "so when I saw the door handle turning, I got up, grabbed my clothes, and hid behind his desk, in that open space where he puts his legs when he's sitting down."
"And just in time, too," the man put in, "because the door opened and six men came in to discuss the company's sales of nuts and bolts. I couldn't very well put them off, so I decided to get rid of them as soon as I could. They pulled up chairs around the desk while I went around and sat in my chair. I glanced down at my wife crouched in the opening. She hadn't had any time to put on her clothing-"
"Or any room either," the wife said. "I thought that damned meeting would go on forever. Every time my husband tried to end it, some idiot would bring up another point that had to be discussed. There was only one point I was interested in, and I could see it bulging against the cloth right in front of my nose. All I had to do was reach out and touch it."
"Which," the man continued, "is precisely what she did. Surprised the hell out of me, too. She held on and wouldn't let go, so I eased the chair in further so no one could possibly see what was going on. And then I got another surprise."
"Well," the women went on, "I didn't know how long the meeting would last, and I know if he gets built up and doesn't have an orgasm he gets cramps. So I just reached out, unzipped his fly, put my hand inside his underwear and pulled his organ out."
"No one could see it because of the desk," the man said. "She really had a grip on my cock, too. She began to caress and fondle it. Did you ever try to conduct a staff meeting under conditions like that? Not that I minded, of course. I loved it. But the best was yet to come."
"He likes me to suck on it," she said, "and I decided this was the perfect time for it. So I got on my knees and inched toward him. I took his sex organ in both my hands, held it close to my mouth and blew gently on the top of it. It lurched in my hands, and I almost laughed aloud at the obvious effort he was making to control himself. A few drops of moisture appeared at the opening in the top, and I bent forward and licked these up with my tongue. Then I cradled his testicles with one hand and, holding onto the shaft with the other, I proceeded to lick and kiss him all over."
"She knows just the way I like it," the man said.
"I should have," the woman grinned. "I've had lots of on the job training. I enjoy doing it. To me, it's like an art to build him up slowly, gradually increasing his passion without any letup until he bursts over the top."
"I thought I was going to burst over the top of the desk," the man said, "the way I felt that day."
"I think it was also the excitement of doing it in that particular way," the woman put in. "I mean, there we were having sex in front of six other people, and none of those other people were aware of it. Anyway, I could feel that he was even more excited than usual and was ready to have an orgasm. Thai's when I started nibbling on him, using my teeth along the shaft of his penis, up and down, until he started throbbing and jerking. Then I put the whole thing in my mouth and held onto it until he finished spurting into my throat."
The man chuckled. "And then you know what she did? She decided to clean me up-with her tongue, like a mother cat. She licked up all traces of the stuff on my cock, stuffed it back in my pants, and zipped me up again."
"Neat," the wife said proudly. "I like to be neat."
What we have here is obviously a sexually harmonious couple who take life and sex where and when they can, without fear, shame or guilt. The husband told that he wanted to return the favor and thought of having the wife sit at her desk outside while he crouched under it, but they decided it would be too risky. Instead, they locked the door, the wife got on the couch and spread her legs, and the husband had regular sexual intercourse with her.
"Still," he said, "the idea of going down on her and kissing her snatch on the sly was pretty exciting and I kept thinking about it. No opportunity came, though, until we decided to have a Holloween costume party at the office right after work."
"We decided to go as a horse," the woman said. "My husband would be in back, and I would be up front-"
"Except," the man said, "she wouldn't be wearing any panties under her skirt. It actually didn't work out as well as I'd hoped, but it was pretty good just the same. From that position, it was rough getting in close enough to her. She had to spread her legs and bend over pretty far. But I hung onto her hips and brought my face as close to her ass as I could, with my nose right in the crack and my lips and tongue straining to reach under for her snatch. She kept giggling-"
"Well, your tongue always tickles me," she said.
"And your snatch always tickles my tongue," he told her. "Anyway, I got my lips into the hair and managed to stick my tongue right up in her snatch to hit her clit. Meanwhile, I used my lips to suck and blow at the opening. I couldn't see who it was, but she was carrying on a conversation with somebody."
"I had to keep moving around, too," she said, "to cover up the fact that I was having one orgasm after another. Finally, I couldn't take it any longer and made a beeline to the ladies' room to put my panties back on. It was fun, but a bit on the strenuous side."
"You can say that again," her husband agreed. "I had a stiff neck for a week afterward."
Needless to say, most office oral sex affairs do not require such agility, especially since the charm and desirability of such behavior can lie in its almost complete lack of preparation required. It is true that in many offices the lunch hour is spent by some people in eating things other than food.
The advertising executive, for example, whose pithy quote opened this
chapter, was quite frank about the matter.
"Look," he said, "I pay my private secretary more than she's worth-as a secretary, that is. If she doesn't want the job, she can go someplace else-for half the money. But as long as she's my secretary and drawing down good wages, she's got to suck my pecker when the mood strikes me. It's not like I'm forcing her to do it-it's up to her. She can take it or leave it."
Obviously, the secretary was taking it. It was interesting to note that she was a married woman, and very reluctant to discuss the matter. Finally, she admitted it was for the money.
"What else?" she said, matter-of-factly. "I'm a good secretary, but I wouldn't earn as much money as I'm making here if I held down two jobs. My husband's got a steady job, sure, but we've got lots of bills from the time I was in the hospital. I sort of feel responsible for the debt we're in, and I want to help out anyway I can."
She thought about that and amended, "Well, not any way. I won't let my boss lay me, and he knows it. But as long as I do the-well, you know, suck on his thing-I can keep him satisfied. This way I can bring home money we need and still work only regular hours so I can be with my husband at night.
"I don't dislike my boss for it. Hell, he's a man, and out for what he can get. If it wasn't me, it'd be somebody else-and I'd rather it was me."
Reading between the lines of her statements, it would appear as though she feels that she is remaining faithful to her husband so long as she does not engage in regular vaginal intercourse with her boss. This is an attitude which is strangely popular, despite the fact that mouth-genital contacts should be considered more intimate in view of the social taboos against them. Yet studies have shown that even prostitutes will perform fellatio on a client when they wouldn't dream of doing the same thing to their boyfriends or husbands.
The reverse situation-that of the lady boss-is seldom encountered, yet it does exist. One man interviewed told about another interview he once had-for a job in the stockroom of a large cosmetics company.
The employment office sent me out there to talk to the president and owner of the firm, he said. I don't like much having to work for a woman, because they tend to get bossy. But I needed the job, so I went out to have a talk with her.
It was a big place, and it looked like a good place for advancement I thought. The woman's office was large and plush, nicely decorated, with thick carpeting, paintings on the walls, lots of drapes, a low, heavy-cushioned couch in front of a huge mahogany desk. The woman must've been in her forties, but she didn't look it. Her platinum hair was piled up on her head in some complicated hairdo, and her lips were rich and red, and her eyebrows at a slant that made her look Oriental. She was wearing a leather jacket, a leather miniskirt, and leather boots, and as she stood by the desk I noticed that her figure wasn't bad.
I introduced myself, we shook hands, and she took my references and waved me back onto the couch. As I sat down, she moved around the desk and sat down behind it, busily studying my papers. Like I said, the couch was low, and it was in front of her desk. I also noticed that the front of her desk was open and her skirt was pulled way up on her thighs. I looked away at the paintings, the drapes, and so forth, but my eyes kept coming back to her legs under the desk. They were very nice, slim, curved, sexy legs-and once, when I looked back at them, they were spread wide open, so I could see right up into her crotch!
I guess I just stared, surprised at the sight. She wasn't wearing any stockings, and the insides of her legs were very white, clear up to" her black panties. Then I squinted even harder and did another double take-because she wasn't wearing any panties at all. The black I saw in there was her pubic hair.
Every once in a while she asked me a question about what I did at some previous place of employment, and I looked up guiltily and answered her. Then she returned to studying the papers again, and my gaze dropped down under the desk. And damned but if it wasn't affecting me. Staring into a female crotch was enough to give me a stiff prick-and that's exactly what was happening to me.
Finally, she said with a smile that I would probably do-if I passed the entrance exam. She asked me how liked it. I thought she meant the company, so I told her it was the biggest one I'd ever seen. She frowned, then laughed at seeing my puzzled look. She said, "I don't mean the firm, you idiot, I'm talking about my pussy. You've been eating it up with your eyes ever since you came in here!"
I think I actually blushed when she said that. I stammered out something ridiculous, trying to deny it, and she said I shouldn't bother making excuses. She said she'd given me the grand view on purpose to let me have an advance preview of what I was getting into. "Oh, I don't mean screwing. I've had enough of that in my time." Then she got up, walked around in front of the desk, pulled her leather skirt up to her navel, sat on top of the desk and spread her legs wide. She said, "Okay, here's your entrance exam. Start licking. Begin with the boots first, and work your way up slowly."
"Well, I've seen kooks in my time, but this one took the booby prize. I "had the feeling that maybe she was trying to prove her female superiority by humiliating men-and hard on or not, I wasn't about to get involved with something like that.
So I got out of there as fast as I could. My ears are still blistered from the names she called me as I left.
Office parties are notorious for the sexual activities which frequently take place there, many of them oral. The intake of alcoholic beverages causes a lessening of inhibitions, which in turn results in behavior which might not normally occur.
One man recalled a party at his boss's house. He'd gone into the bathroom to urinate and was holding his penis in his hand, just finishing the chore, when the door burst open.
It was our spinster bookkeeper, he said. I guess she wasn't used to drinking, and she'd come in looking for a place to vomit. Anyway, she just stood there in the doorway, blinking, trying to focus her eyes on the thing I held in my hand. I was so startled I just hung onto it without trying to cover up. Then she surprised the hell out of me by slamming the door shut behind her, licking her lips, muttering something like "Pretty, pretty," and sitting down on the toilet seat and putting my pecker in her mouth!
She wasn't an expert at it, but what she lacked in experience she made up for in enthusiasm. My pecker got stiff as she gobbled at it, and I shot off in her mouth. I guess the taste didn't agree with her, or else it didn't mix with all the booze she'd been taking. Anyway, I got out of there just as she started getting sick all over the place.
Later, she didn't remember anything that had happened. I suppose it was something she'd always wanted to do, and-He grinned.-you know, booze always helps loosen your tongue.
Then, there is the case of the office virgin, who is frequently also known as the office tease because of her attempts to preserve her virginity.
I guess it really wasn't a very wise thing to do, one man admitted, but at the time it seemed like a good idea. There was this chick, Carol, who came to work as a file clerk. Young, about twenty, single, pretty, and really stacked. She must've known she had a body, because she kept wearing clothes that emphasized her tits and legs and everything in between. She liked to sit down with her dress hiked way up above her knees, and she d bend over a lot to give us a view into her cleavage. Trouble was, she advertised what she had, purposely made our mouths water-and then wouldn't deliver. Man, the way she looked you'd think she'd be hot to jump in the sack with the nearest guy for some plain and fancy fucking.
But nothing doing. A couple of guys in the department took her out on dates, but they said she just froze up on them and they were lucky to get a good-night kiss. Me, I'm married, but this chick Carol really gave me a hard prick. Once, I tried to feel her up a little when we were in the elevator together, but she slapped my face and acted like it was the end of the world.
Then came the big office party. Man, some of those are really wild. We always have it up at the boss's pad, a big place with a flock of bedrooms upstairs. After a half dozen martinis some of the guys and chicks start pairing off and disappearing up the stairs. I wondered if little Carol would let her hair down-and maybe her panties, too-once she started drinking. It was an interesting thought, and I decided to look into it.
Of course, so did every other guy in the place that night.
Carol was wearing a knit minidress that hugged her body so tightly I could swear I could see the nipples out-lined in front. I'd already had quite a bit to drink by the time she arrived, and the combination of that and the sight of this luscious female morsel flaunting her gorgeous body in front of me-well, it really did things to my metabolism.
I think if it wasn't for the drinks and the fact I was in such a horny mood, nothing would've happened. But there she was, practically inviting some guy to go up and rip her clothes off her-the damn little tease. A couple of the other guys came over to compare notes, and we talked about such things as did she have a bra on or not, and if not maybe she wasn't wearing any panties either, and so forth-a discussion sure as hell not designed to lower our temperatures any.
As the evening wore on, Carol started getting a little unsteady, which gave somebody an idea. Suppose we kept feeding her drinks, maybe after awhile we could suggest she go upstairs and lie down for a while. Then we could take turns fucking her like she's never been fucked before. Like I say, with the drinks and us being all hot and bothered like that, it seemed like a good idea at the time. Besides, she'd been really asking for something like this for a long time, and it was about time she got taught a lesson.
So we kept feeding her drinks, until pretty soon her eyes got glazed, her speech was slurred, and she could hardly stand up. I was with her, so-gentleman that I am-I suggested maybe she'd like to go upstairs and lie down for a while. She said that she was feeling a little dizzy, and perhaps if she did lie down for a while she'd feel better. So I took her arm and guided her across the room, up the stairs, and into the nearest bedroom.
I placed her on the bed. Her eyes were completely closed now, and in the light from a small table lamp I could see her marvelous chest rising and falling as she breathed. Then the door behind me opened again and three guys came in and locked the door behind them. For a few minutes we all stood around staring at her, at the expanse of white leg visible almost up to the crotch.
"God, she's lovely," someone breathed. I agreed with him. Lovely, sexy-and I remembered all those times when she'd placed her lovely body under our noses and wouldn't even let us touch. Now, she didn't have any choice in the matter. She was sound asleep.
I began undressing her. I took off her high heels first. Then I pulled the knit dress up over her head and threw it on a nearby chair. She was wearing panties all right, and a bra, too-the nipples had been my imagination sticking through the cloth. I took both of her undergarments off and then stepped back to admire the view.
She was still in a sound sleep, her round, firm breasts rising and falling, pushing the cherry tips up as though begging to be sucked. My gaze traveled down, across the flat expanse of belly to the dark triangle that pointed the way to her sweet, virginal cunt, and I could feel my prick standing up, getting ready.
I think the rising excitement must've overpowered all the drinks I had, because I felt some second thoughts romping through my brain. I said, "Who's going to be first?" I wanted to be first, yet I didn't want to. "Suppose she wakes up while we're screwing her?" someone suggested. "She might really be a virgin," another said, "and she'd start bleeding."
"Not only that," the third man said, "but she could accuse us of rape."
"You mean," I said, "you're all going to chicken out and leave this gorgeous hunk untouched." I smiled as another thought occurred to me. I added, "Or untasted?"
"Of course. It was the obvious solution. We could all have sex with her without breaking her cherry if she had one, or without raping her. Oral sex. We could all go down on her, have our kicks, and she'd probably not even wake up. This time I didn't hesitate. I knelt beside the bed, spread her legs and stuck my head up in her crotch. Normally, I don't get as big a bang out of lapping cunts, but this time it tasted sweeter than wine. I was finally getting even with the office tease. She wouldn't let me feel her breasts, but this was much better. It's a shame she slept right through all of it. I could swear she had herself a couple of orgasms while we were working her over. She might have really had herself a time if she'd been awake.
Kinsey had noted that frequently a sex offender will excuse his behavior on the basis of alcohol consumed, and the man in the current case history is apparently no exception. Coupled with this are two other relevant factors; the fact that he is not alone, it is a group activity, and therefore the guilt must be shared, and also that the girl deserved whatever she got for (voluntarily or unconsciously) flaunting her sexy body in front of them. It is, nevertheless, to the man's credit that he chose a lesser physical form of sexual behavior with the girl, since dangers of injury and/or pregnancy were thus eliminated.
An interesting and pertinent postscript to this came to light when the girl, Carol, was interviewed and asked about the sexual goingson at office parties. She replied that she had no idea of any such activities, since she was a good girl who never indulged in them. "However," she added, with a Mona Lisa smile, "I'm hardly responsible for what happens to me when I'm unconscious, am I?"
CHAPTER NINE: INTERRACIAL MOUTH-GENITAL CONTACTS
According to a popular belief among many whites, the male Negro has a penis like a stallion's, in a constant state of erection, which he is forever trying to ram into some opening of a Caucasian female. In similar fashion, the Negress is believed to be a savage, untamed animal, without equal in female sexual prowess.
This is a belief which has been nurtured since Colonial days and which has served to color Negro-Caucasian relations ever since. Because of this, it is understandable why many white women actively seek out Negro sexual partners, and why many white men actively seek out Negress sexual partners. It is an unfortunate condition of our society that a man and a woman of different races experience sex together not in spite of skin color, but because of it, not because one is a man and the other a woman, but because one is black and one is white.
The Negro himself (and herself) is also subject to this fantasy. The white woman or man often becomes a sexual target because a white conquest is for a Negro a step upward on the social scale in a predominantly white culture.
I remember when I was just a kid, an adult Negro said, I happened to look admiringly at a teen-age white girl. It was out in broad daylight, and she was wearing a tight skirt and really wiggling her ass for everybody to see. Everybody was looking, but I was colored, and it was down South in my hometown. Well, I tell you, I thought I was going to get lynched right then and there. As it was, a group of white fellas beat up on me so I had bruises for weeks afterward. One of them even kicked me in the balls. And what the shit did I do? Nothing, that's what, except look. I couldn't avoid looking if I'd wanted to.
Anyway, that really made me sore, but I found out it was only the beginning. You talk about equal rights, but the only time I feel equal is when I've got my big black cock rammed up some white girl's snatch-or better still, in her pink little mouth. That's why I go after them. For the sex, sure, but also to get even.
I couldn't very well do it down South. I went up to New York City for a while, then out to San Francisco, where I am now. Man, that's the town. All I have to do is put on some crazy outfit, some beads, grow whiskers-and I ain't a Negro no more. I'm some sort of exotic hippie-and man, the girls eat it up, but literally.
There's this one chick I'm shacking with now. I met her at a pot party at somebody's pad. She was pretty, with a white face and long blonde hair. What attracted me to her was that she looked some thing like that girl down South I'd gotten a beating over. This one was wearing boots and a minidress and a vacant expression on her face as she sat cross-legged in one corner of the room. I'could tell she was turned on from something. She wasn't completely out, because I could see her moving slightly in time to some bongo music a cat was beating out.
Suddenly this blonde chick let out a shriek, got up, tore off her dress and underwear and started doing a sexy dance around the room. She had curves on her that wouldn't stop. I stared at her big white tits bobbing around, then lower where her blonde hair covered her snatch. I thought of what a nice artistic contrast it would be if my big black cock went sliding into that blonde hair, slinding in and out, in and out. Man! if I didn't get hard just thinking about it.
When she was through dancing, some white cat with long hair tried to pull her into a back room, but she said she didn't want to. Well, black knight to the rescue, as the storybooks don't put it. I got up and told him to shove off. He looked me over first, but he shoved off. The girl looked me over, too, and she said, "You're a Negro, aren't you?"
Well, that seemed like a pretty silly question, considering the fact that my skin is about as black as they come. I got a little annoyed and I asked her what if I was? She took my arm and led me over in the corner and sat down and told me she'd been brought up in the deep South and she knew how terrible it was for persons of my race to make out in the world. She said she was ashamed she was white.
I said it wasn't a shame at all, because her white skin looked very good. She hadn't put on her dress, and her tits kept rubbing up against my arm. I reached out and took one of her tits in my hand and rubbed it. She smiled and edged closer and said that if that made me feel any better, why I could go right on and do it all I wanted. She said she wanted to do whatever she could to make it up for me what her race had done to me all these years.
Well, by that time my cock was standing up and throbbing in my pants. I decided what the shit did I have to lose! So I took one of her hands and placed it outside the bulge in my pants and told her that if she really wanted to do something nice for me, she'd let me fuck her.
She kept patting me in front while she smiled and said she couldn't very well do that, since she was a white girl and I was a colored man and it would be unnatural. But just to prove she wasn't prejudiced, she said, she'd do something even better.
I didn't have to wait long to find out what that was. She reached out, unzipped my fly, and took out my cock and rolled the black thing all around in her lily-white hands until it was harder than ever. Then she put her head down into my lap, took my cock in her pink mouth and began sucking on it.
I think everybody else in the room was too turned on to notice, but by that time it wouldn't have mattered to me anyway. Her long blonde hair was brushing up against my stomach as her head bobbed up and down. She took it out of her mouth and kissed it all over the top and sides and then licked me a few times under the balls just for good measure.
I could feel myself coming, so I grabbed a handful of hair and forced her mouth over my black cock again. She swallowed it, but I held on just the same and lifted my hips up off the floor to ram it deep in her mouth. I kept on like that until I came and I held on to her until she'd swallowed all of the Negro juice that came out.
When I let her up, I saw that her mouth hurt her, but I didn't give a shit about that. She grinned at me and asked if that didn't prove she wasn't prejudiced. I told her it was okay for now, but what about tomorrow? She said I could come live with her, and she'd keep trying to prove it to me as long as it took to convince me that she thought us colored people were as "good as whites.
So here I am, living the good life with this blonde chick. At least once a day I shove my black cock into her white mouth. I guess she's trying to prove something all right, but it ain't that she's not prejudiced. What she has proved to me is that she's a nut. Not that I'm complaining, you understand. I'm enjoying myself and getting revenge on all those white cats out there at the same time.
How's that for practicing nonviolence, baby?
Obviously, the white girl has psychological problems, the exact nature of which we will probably never be aware. So has her Negro oral lover, but at least his taking advantage of the girl is understandable, and he is not trying to punish himself for some real or imagined wrong. His revenge motive seems secondary to his own feelings of status improvement through his sexual relations with a female member of a race farther up the caste totem pole. Besides, there is the straight sex factor, which cannot be ignored.
One white manufacturer who hires colored girls to work in his factory insists that some of them perform fellatio on him from time to time in order to get bonuses "for work above and beyond the call of duty." If the girl of his choice refuses, she is replaced by someone more willing. Despite the fact that he also hires Caucasian women, he limits his activities to Negresses.
I really get a charge out of seeing her big black mouth work me over down there, he said. Especially if she's got thick lips, boy! that's really something. Most of them are really hot for a piece of white meat. They'd probably like for me to shove it up into their black pussies, but that's where I draw the line. I don't want to get a disease by screwing them the regular way.
Possibly the man had in mind some sort of exotic African disease not communicated through the mouth, since most sexual diseases can be transmitted in this fashion.
Some authorities have pointed out that the incest factor can be important in promulgating certain Negro-Caucasian relationships. One such instance was the case of a young man named Elliot who had been going off and on ta see a psychiatrist about recurring attacks of? impotency and headaches. After much digging, the doctor unearthed from Elliot the fact that he had often secretly looked in on his mother and his father while they were making love. Afterward, the boy would go into the bathroom and masturbate, bringing to mind an image of his mother on the bed, her white legs spread in open invitation. While Freud and many others recognized early the naturalness of this selection of a fantasy sexual object on the part of a pubescent boy, Elliot was soon made aware of the term "mother-fucker" in all its literalness and the taboos against even considering such behavior.
When I began dating, he confided, I discovered to my horror that the girls I especially liked resembled Mom with her light brown hair and her golden skin. It made me very nervous and uncomfortable around them, though at the time I had no idea why. When I went out with girls who didn't remind me of her in any way, I couldn't seem to develop any interest in them.
I was a virgin when I went in to the Marines, but that didn't last long. A couple of guys from base got me drunk, and I woke up next morning in the sack with some brown-haired girl. It was strange. I didn't realize where I was at first. I thought I was in bed at home. The girl's back was toward me, and I had a horrible thought about who it might be. But it wasn't, of course.
Then I started going to Negro prostitutes while I was in the service. For some reason, I seemed to get more satisfaction out of them than with whites. I remember this one in particular, with big breasts I used to like to suck on. She had big nipples, too, that almost filled my mouth when I worked them over. Then she'd go down and suck on my dick for a while. She asked me if I wanted to do it to her, you know-put my mouth on her cunt like I was doing to her nipples; but, of course, that was one route I didn't want to travel-at least not just then.
Afterward I was discharged from the Marines, my sex life started getting much worse. When I'd date a girl and try to make out with her, a lot of times I couldn't even get a hard on; I suppose because I'd gotten used to Negro girls. When I did screw her, I'd get these terrible migraine headaches afterwards. It got so bad I went to a veteran's hospital for a checkup. I thought they'd give me a bunch of aspirins and tell me to get lots of rest. Instead, I found myself talking to a psychiatrist, who asked me all sorts of embarrassing questions. I guess he was on the right track, but I didn't go back there again.
I got a good job and got married. The sex life wasn't bad, except for the headaches. Then I met this girl at work, a pretty, dark-haired Negress. She was a divorcee with four kids and was having it rough making ends meet-until I suggested I could help her out with a few dollars every now and then. It sounds cold putting it like that, and it wasn't really the way it happened. We got to be good friends first, and I told her some of my hang-ups, and she sympathized with me. I think she's even in love with me. The interesting thing about our relationship, though, is that we don't do any screwing. She said that would be betraying my wife, and I agree with her. But we do something else that's even more effective.
Whenever I've had sex with my wife, I get these headaches. As soon as I can, I make some excuse-like I need to get a pack of cigarettes, or I want to take a walk, or something-and I go over to the Negro girl's place. By that time her kids are asleep in bed. She leads me into the bedroom, gets undressed, and stretches her coal-black body out oh the bed. I lay down beside her and begin by kissing the nipples on her tiny breasts. Then I lick my way down her dark flesh and across her stomach until my nose inhales the perfume of her wiry pubic hair and my tongue tastes its sweet-honey flavor. And then I push my lips and tongue deep inside the moist, heated tangle, spread her cunt and work my tongue inside. Sometimes her legs go around my head and hold me trapped, a prisoner. I don't mind, though, because pretty soon my headache is completely gone, until the next time I screw my wife, that is.
The man satisfied the interviewer's curiosity and verified his suspicions by showing a picture of his brown-haired, light-skinned wife who bears an incredible resemblance to his mother!
CHAPTER TEN: ORAL SEX WITH ANIMALS
I remember when I was a boy, the man said, I liked to go visit my cousin on his parents' farm. It was mostly fun, but I helped with some of the simpler chores, too. Once in a while I'd be there when one of the stallions decided to get horny and climb up on the back of one of the mares. It fascinated me to watch that big pole sticking out from the horse. I knew what it was, of course, because I had a pole of my own-but much shorter, naturally-and I was about twelve then and knew what fun it was.
I thought, at first, the male horse was trying to shove its big prick up into the girl horse's asshole. But my cousin Jim, who was a year older and wiser about such matters, set me straight.
Then this other time, Jim told me to fill up the horse's trough with water. He said he had to milk the cows and would see me later. Then he headed for the barn. I filled up the trough and waited around, but he didn't come back, so I decided to go see if I could help him. I eased open the barn door and was about to yell out his name when I saw what was keeping him so busy.
Jim was leaning back against the wall, his eyes closed, his prick hanging out-and there was a tiny calf in front of him licking his prick with a long tongue. When the calf let out a bleat, Jim opened his eyes, picked up a small container of milk and dipped his prick in it. It came out dripping white, and the calf renewed its attack.
I guessed Jim was enjoying it, because he was moaning and sighing, and his prick got stiff and stood out in front of him. Just the sight of that was enough to make me get a hard on myself. I wondered what it would be like to have that big calf's tongue take a swipe at me. Jim let out a groan, his pecker jumped, and he came, with the little calf still licking up and down, back and forth.
Then Jim looked up and saw me, and his face got red. Quickly he tried to stuff his prick in his pants and button up. I ran toward him, saying "Me next, me next." He grinned and said, "Sure, just rub some of this milk on your pecker and let Cindy Lou lick it off." Cindy Lou was the name he'd given the calf.
So I rubbed some of the milk all over my stiff prick. Cindy Lou looked up in interest and ambled over. I wondered if the calf thought our pricks were like her mother's tits. At any rate, when she opened her mouth and came toward me, I got very nervous. Suppose she bit me there. I wouldn't be able to pee or jerk off or anything. But she was very gentle. Her big tongue came rolling out and licked me. It was something like soft, wet sandpaper, and it felt very good. Before very long I came, too.
Later, Jim said he'd been doing it only a couple of months. He'd been jerking off in the barn when the nosy calf came over to investigate. That's when he got the idea of putting milk on it and letting the animal lick him. I told him it was fun, and I envied him having a calf that could do it to him. He laughed and told me I had something just as good at home-a pet dog.
I'd forgotten about Princess, our German shepherd. I know that sometimes she'd come over and smell my crotch, but I always shooed her away. I wondered what would happen if I didn't make her get her nose out of there. I was so anxious to find out that I cut short my farm vacation a couple of days.
At home, Princess was happy to see me. She jumped all over me and licked my face with her long, raspy tongue. I tried to imagine how that same tongue would be dragging itself over my stiff prick-and I shuddered in anticipation. I waited until both my parents were out, then I got completely undressed, sat in a chair and called the dog over. At first, she didn't get the idea, until I'd waved my prick in front of her nose a few times. Finally, she noticed it enough to lick it a few times, but then she lost interest.
I tried putting some milk on it, and that worked. She really lapped it up, and every time her rough tongue moved over me, my prick got a little bigger and stiffer, until finally I came. It got to be a regular occurrence around our house. Sometimes I'd take her favorite dog food and rub a little of it on me, so she'd really be enthusiastic. It gave me a little extra thrill to feel her sharp teeth nibbling along the side, too.
Trouble was, Princess would come up to me at anytime and sniff my crotch and try to lick it-which was sort of embarrassing, especially with my parents around. Once, when my father was sitting on the couch in his pajamas watching television, the dog got up beside him, nudged open his fly with her nose and started licking his prick.
Obviously, something would have to change. And it was me. I was too embarrassed to let my parents find out what I'd been doing, and I was afraid they'd get suspicious if things kept on that way. Besides, I was beginning to lose interest. It was just as much fun doing it by hand anyway, instead of coaxing some dumb pooch to lick your prick.
And later, of course, there were real live girls....
In this case, it appears as though the experiment was merely that-a youthful curiosity and desire to try some new method of enjoying an orgasm. In most cases, the relationship is a transitory thing, soon replaced by other pleasures. In others, it may be an indication of some severe sexual maladjustment, as in the case of a woman in her thirties who lured her cat to perform cunnilingus on her.
I've got her trained perfectly now, the woman purred contentedly. Before I feed her, I take a small brush and apply a thin layer of milk to the insides of my thighs and then right up inside my vagina. Then I lie on the bed and let my pussy-the one with the tongue-do her work.
I think she actually enjoys it-I mean, apart from her natural liking for the milk on my skin. She always starts on the inside of my leg, licking away inch by inch, not moving ahead until one spot is completely dry. Did you ever feel a cat's tongue on some sensitive spot on your body? Well, by the time she gets up into my crotch, I'm about ready to add some cream to the milk in my vagina. I can hardly hold still. I'm shaking and trembling all over.
And then, when she puts her little tongue up inside me When the woman was reminded that there are men who will perform the same act, she smiled wryly and said, "But then I'd have to give them something in return-and they'd want more from me than just cat food."
It was clear to the interviewer that this particular pet lover had problems which were very deep-seated and not likely to be solved at a moment's notice.
Reversing the process-that is, having a human perform an oral sex act on an animal is less frequently encountered. However, one young lady reported that she tried it with her pet dog one day.
I was only thirteen and just starting to get turned on by boys, she said. My brother was seventeen, and he dated a lot. Once, when he was going to a drive-in movie with one of his girl friends, Mom made him take me along. I felt sorry for the guy, because I knew he wanted to do some necking, so sometime during the movie I pretended I was asleep. I pretended so well that I actually did fall asleep. When I woke up, I couldn't see anyone in front, and I thought the two of them had gone out to the stand for some popcorn, so I sat up-and stared at what was happening in the front seat.
Big brother was hunched down in the seat, and he had his whatchamacallit sticking up out of his pants. And this girl had her head bent over it and was kissing and licking it for all it was worth. They didn't see me, but I felt embarrassed, so I eased back in the seat and stayed very still. Above the sound of the movie loudspeaker, I could hear sounds coming from the front seat-kissing, slurping sounds, sounds of my brother moaning and sighing. And to tell the truth, it started turning me on.
I knew how boys were built, and that when they were excited their whatchamacallits got stiff and they wanted to stick it up between your legs. I'd gotten this information from my parents, my brother, and my girl friends-but chiefly from my girl friends. Sometimes I'd masturbate with my finger and pretend it was the whatchamacallit of some guy I had a crush on, and it was very exciting.
But the idea of putting a guy's whatchamacallit in your mouth? Wow, that really made me feel warm and gushy inside.
My brother had bought me a hot dog, which I hadn't eaten completely, and now, as I lay there in the back seat of the car, I took it out of the bun and shoved it in and out of my mouth, pretending you know what. Big brother's sighs and groans made it seem almost real-except for one thing: it tasted just like a cold hot dog, and I was pretty sure a guy's whatchamacallit wouldn't taste that way, not even with mustard and catsup.
Did I tell you we have this cocker spaniel named Pete? Well, we've got a cocker spaniel named Pete. I take him out for a walk every day so he can go on somebody else's lawn instead of our apartment carpet. Pete gets turned on too by some of the lady dogs he meets along the way. I'd noticed before the whatchamacallit he pees through, but did my best to ignore it. But when Pete gets near a female dog, a big red shaft of flesh seems to slide out of his hairy whatchamacallit, and Pete is ready to go.
This one day after the night of the movie, it happened, and I wondered if female dogs ever sucked on a male dog down there. Too bad, I thought, that I wasn't a weredog so I could change myself into a female cocker spaniel to find out. And then I thought, why did I have to be a female cocker spaniel to find out? If I performed a little-shall we say, experiment?-certainly Pete wasn't going to tell anybody.
It was an exciting idea, but I never seriously thought of doing it-until I remembered my brother kept a pack of contraceptives in his bedroom under some underwear in the dresser. I picked a time when the whole family was out and I wouldn't be interrupted. Then I got out one of the contraceptives and had it ready while I began scratching Pete's stomach. He rolled over as he always did to give me better access. He loved to have his stomach scratched. But this time I made sure my hand brushed up against his hairy whatchamacallit, gently at first, so I wouldn't frighten him, then more boldly until he began whimpering and that big red shaft stood out and pointed in my direction.
Quickly, before I could chicken out of it, I pulled the contraceptive over his throbbing whatchamacallit, bent my head and began sucking like crazy. It tasted funny in my mouth, but I was sure if I hadn't had the contraceptive on him it would've tasted even funnier. He kept throbbing more and more and whimpering, until finally I felt him explode in my mouth.
Then he scrambled from me and ran away and under the bed. I felt pretty foolish going after him to pull off the contraceptive that was dangling between his legs, but I couldn't very well leave it there for my parents or my brother to find. Naturally, they'd ask about it, and how would it sound if I casually said, "Oh, that. I was just using it to suck Pete's whatchamacallit." They'd lock me up in the loony bin, which is probably what I deserved after a dumb stunt like that.
To tell the truth, I hadn't really enjoyed it, and I never tried it again. Until, of course, I was much older and began dating. Then I found out that the real thing is sure one heck of a lot better than any substitute.
Which, more or less, pretty well expresses it.
CONCLUSION
The title of this section may well be a misnomer. What conclusions can be drawn except that, despite laws and social taboos forbidding it, oral sex behavior is present in our society.
The case histories we have selected for presentation in this volume have shown, however, that there is a wide variation in methods and motivations for what should be a fairly simple and straightforward sexual encounter. Some of these motivations are clearly understandable; Others are clouded behind a murky psychology which would take years of intense psychiatric delving to unravel.
Man is busily probing the seas, exploring the depths of space, but right here on Earth we have a vast sexual frontier with which the human mind is too often unable to cope. Since the beginnings of time, mouth-genital contacts have been frowned on by society, while the members of that society have nevertheless freely engaged in these contacts.
Some have taken this ambivalence in stride, adjusting to it. Others have brought to the union preconceived notions which have thwarted enjoyment of the act and even engendered psychological repercussions of far-reaching significance to the individual.
Perhaps it is time for a reassessment of this unwarrantedly controversial form of lovemaking. Certainly it can be no worse for a person's lips and tongue to give pleasure than it is for another person's mouth to preach hate.
